


We'll Be Fireproof

by macwritesthings



Series: What We Both Need [4]
Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - BDSM, Butt Plugs, Coming Untouched, Dom/sub, Dominant Armie, Frottage, Hair-pulling, Kink Negotiation, Light Angst, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Praise Kink, Punishment, Rope Bondage, Sexting, Slow Burn, Spanking, Subdrop, Submissive Timothée, Subspace, i know this is the slowest burn ever I'M SORRY, indulgent use of the word brat as a term of endearment, universe-compliant rules and language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-17
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2019-05-08 01:26:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14683554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/macwritesthings/pseuds/macwritesthings
Summary: He couldn’t stop staring at it. It was probably stupid, he thought, because he’d been wearing a bracelet of some sort ever since he was twelve, but this was different. This hadintent. This was the first time someone had actually laidclaimto him, and he felt a strange mixture of discomfort and arousal about it at the same time.





	1. A Truth So Loud You Can't Ignore

**Author's Note:**

> HERE WE GOOOOO now things are gonna get Interesting ;) Thank you all so so so much from the bottom of my teeny lil heart for the feedback and love and comments and enthusiasm about this work. It never would have made it this far without you guys and I LOVE reading everything you have to say about it, even if it's literally just keysmashes. I love talking to you guys about it and thank you so much for everything.
> 
> Titles this time taken from "Youth" by Troye Sivan.

_Timothee_

He couldn’t stop staring at it. It was probably stupid, he thought, because he’d been wearing a bracelet of some sort ever since he was twelve, but this was different. This had _intent_. This was the first time someone had actually laid _claim_ to him, and he felt a strange mixture of discomfort and arousal about it at the same time. He kept rubbing his fingers over his name, pressed into soft, suede-lined leather, the script spelling out his name clear as day underneath Armie’s (and god, he thought, that was something else, something that had kept him half-hard the rest of the night, just seeing Armie’s name there, on the inside of the delicate skin of his wrist, so close to his pulse point he swore he could see it jump with every beat of his heart). 

Armie had given it to him, had put him on his knees and tangled his hand in his hair, had tipped his head back and smiled at him fondly, and Timmy had felt himself begin to tumble over some ledge he wasn’t even aware he was standing on the precipice of until that moment. Falling into something he’d heard about his whole life, fought against because he thought it was old-fashioned and wrong, mouthed off about and been fined for, a ledge that was the softest edge of subspace, wanting to give himself over to another person entirely, and that was discomforting. He wanted to submit. He _wanted_ it, but at the same time that it was thrilling, the idea of just letting Armie take care of him, soothe him, have him go so far under that all he could focus on was _Armie_ , it was also unsettling. Who was he if he submitted to another person totally? Who was he if he admitted that it was something he wanted, that he’d been wrong about it being some dumb lie people made up to keep subs in line (although, he was still pretty sure about eighty percent of the things people said about subs was just bullshit to keep them in line, so maybe he was okay there). Who was he if he almost went under just from Armie tugging his hair lightly, keeping one large hand over the back of his neck, not even squeezing, just holding, comforting?

Who was he if he wasn’t able to be himself? What if submitting took something of himself away? As much as he wanted it, wanted to explore what that would be like, wanted to see what truly being in that dynamic would be like, he was terrified that he’d somehow become….cowed. Different. He’d lose his sense of himself, his want for independence, his desire to be his own person. What if he lost all of that?

So he sat on the little balcony jutting out from his attic loft, huddled in sweatpants and a hoodie, hood drooping over his eyes, chain smoking and watching his breath and the smoke mingle in the cold air. He shivered a little, rubbing his fingers over the names again, the embers from the cigarette between his fingers lighting them up briefly. He _wanted_ this. So why was he so fucking scared?

Armie had left, after a while. He’d stayed at his feet, looked up at him, and meant it when he’d said Armie could do whatever he wanted with him. That was what was the most scary. The fact that he’d been willing to give himself over to someone, to be what they wanted him to be, or needed him to be. He knew doms needed things from subs, the same way subs needed things from doms. They had an innate desire to protect, to care for, to be in charge, to….to make sure that everything was alright. That had been the best way Pauline had been able to explain it to him when they were teenagers, and he could see all of that in her, and in Armie. He saw the best parts of the world in Armie, the best parts of the progressive movements that had been gaining momentum ever since he was born, slowly but surely. But he was still scared. The deep desire to be on his knees, to be _used_ , was terrifying. And he didn’t know what to do about it. 

Armie had stayed, for a while, one hand in Timmy’s hair as he just talked to him about meaningless little things. For such a grand declaration, for all the pomp and circumstance surrounding them signing the contracts and Timmy getting the bracelet, the conversation following it was menial at best. Armie asked him more about how he was feeling, if he was sure he’d recovered, had studied his eyes with one hand on his jaw as though he were trying to make sure they were clear until Timmy had rolled them at him and shifted his head, biting at his hand playfully. Armie had snorted and flicked him on the ear, voice fond as he’d chuckled, _god, you really are something else, kid_ , and it had made Timmy smile and feel shivery all over, feel pleased and warm and soft through his bones and into his stomach and Armie’s smile had gone a little softer at that, eyes knowing, and that was when Timmy realized that he was literally _preening_ at the words.

So yeah, it was….terrifying.

When Armie had left, he’d just cupped Timmy’s face in one hand after saying goodbye to his mom and Pauline, rubbing one thumb over his cheekbone and telling him he’d see him the next day, that they could schedule a time to get dinner, to really talk things over, set boundaries, and Timmy had nodded, his whole body tingling, the same strange sensation he got when he banged his elbow too hard on something, and he watched Armie get into a car that appeared as if by magic before he’d turned back to the room to see his mother and Pauline standing behind him and smiling. He’d escaped upstairs after that, blushing and heading out to the balcony, where he’d been for the better part of the last hour.

He glanced back through the doorway into his room, blowing out a thin stream of smoke and frostbitten air, studying the paintings on the walls, the baseball trophies cluttered on his bookshelf. His journals, stacked on his desk and the floor, and his sweater found its way to his mouth again, being chewed on nervously as he wondered if Armie would demand to read them, or something. What if he was completely different once the courtship started? What if he had ridiculous rules he demanded of his subs, or wanted Timmy to only do things he approved of (which, Timmy realized, was maybe a dumb fear because _everything_ he wanted to do, basically, had to be approved, but there was a difference between his wants being approved and only things his _dom_ wanted him to do being approved). 

He’d been in short-term contracts before--twice. But they weren’t anything serious, and he’d never _done_ anything with them--that was something his mother had made sure of right away. Both had been in college, both with doms who were just looking to see how being in charge of someone else would work. And even though he’d felt warmth at the praise of doing something right, had learned something about what it was like to submit to someone in theory, he hadn’t ever had any sort of reaction to anything asked of him. He’d been on his knees, yes, but he’d never _wanted_ to be, had never felt the same reaction to either of them that he felt to Armie, that _want_ to be good, to be helpful, useful, _used_. To be held down and taken care of and bliss out at someone else’s hands. 

So, that was also a little terrifying. And, yes, arousing--the idea of Armie doing whatever he wanted to him? Those hands on him, that mouth pressing against his skin, leaving marks that proved he belonged to someone, being pinned down under the miles of legs the man possessed (honestly, where the fuck did he get off), spread open and made to beg and just _give in--_

Timmy took another shaky inhale from the cigarette between his fingers. That wasn’t really a path he could go down right now, with his mom and sister still in the house, liable to come check on him at any moment. He had already been half-hard in his pants, and now he was working towards fully hard, and the longer he stared at the bracelet, at Armie’s name, the harder he got, shifting on his chair so it wasn’t _so_ obvious through his sweatpants. 

He sighed out more smoke, watched it curl into the air with his breath, shivered a little, sniffled as his nose began to run, twisted his mouth to one side in thought. 

This wasn’t going to be bad, he thought to himself. It wasn’t. And worrying that Armie was different with subs in private--that was fucking stupid. He’d seen the charity balls Armie had attended and thrown, seen the sub’s rights groups he supported actively and loudly, followed the man on social media and saw him advocating for sub’s rights, saw that he put his money where his mouth was. He was in the paper for charitable events as often as he was for parties and gossip, so there was nothing to be afraid of there.

He just didn’t like change, Timmy admitted, finally stubbing out the cigarette and drawing his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them and staring out at the city. He didn’t like the idea of wanting to be something he’d fought so hard not to be. Didn’t like the idea of losing part of himself while he was also, maybe, gaining something. 

Maybe that was how he should be looking at it--like he wasn’t going to lose anything, but gain something, maybe some part of him he didn’t know about, some part of him that was going to click into place, finally, balance him out in a way he hadn’t realized he needed to be. 

His mother’s voice drifted out from his room, and he twisted, peering in the doorway. She was standing inside his door, and he held up one finger, signaling he’d be in. She nodded, and backed out. He stared out at the city for a moment longer, fingers rubbing over those indented words again, feeling less panicked, more settled. This was going to be fine. 

As he pushed up, gathered the cigarettes and ashtray from the little table, his phone vibrated in his back pocket, and he fumbled to get it out as he tugged open the door, setting his other things on the table inside his doorway, shivering a little against the sudden blast of heat. Closing the balcony door, he thumbed open his phone, looked down at the text from Armie.

_Dinner Thursday work for you? I know I could ask you this tomorrow, but I want to ask now. And make sure you’re not freaking out._

Timmy smiled, teeth catching his lower lip, and he swayed a little back and forth in place before replying.

**Thursday sounds good. I will see you tomorrow, yes. I was freaking out a little, but nothing too bad. Mostly just upset that since you’re a giant I’ll always look short in photos now.**

He headed to his door, was halfway down the stairs when the reply came through.

_I’ll buy you some stilts, you whiner. Go eat something so you don’t pass out._

Timmy rolled his eyes, responded without thinking, **yes, sir.**

The reply came before he’d hit the bottom step.

_You’re going to be the death of me. You don’t even realize what you just did, do you?_

He re-read his previous text, cheeks flushing, stopping dead in the middle of the hallway, rubbing one hand over his face and laughing a little against his palm, before smiling a little and tapping out **no, but now I do, and now I know it’s a Thing for you. So I’ll be doing it more often.**

He stepped into the kitchen, moved to the table when his mother motioned him to it, chatting with Pauline in rapid-fire French, and glanced at his phone when the reply came through, slouching in his chair so his physical response wasn’t evident.

_You’re a brat. I should put you over my knee._

**Gosh, now I’m scared!!!**

_SUCH a brat. The amount of sass you pack into things is amazing._

**You like it, though. You signed a contract saying you did. You’re stuck now, Hammer.**

_I do like it. I’m going to like seeing just what I have to do to get you to stop sassing and start begging._

“Timmy?” his head whipped up, phone slamming face-down on the table, shifting in his seat to gaze up at Pauline, wide-eyed, and she just tipped her head a little, and then laughed, delighted. “Okay, so that’s why mom’s phone has been going off. Maybe she shouldn’t read those texts, huh?” Timmy groaned and slammed his head onto the table, covering his head with his arms.

“Just leave me here to die,” he mumbled, and Pauline patted him on the back, voice cheerful when she replied.

“Armie would probably kill us if we did that. At least we know you’re compatible if you’re going to be going all glassy-eyed every time he texts you.” When Timmy just groaned again, she laughed and leaned to kiss his cheek. “I think he’s good for you. I’m happy for you. Just maybe keep the sexting to a minimum.”

He swatted out at her blindly, head still on the table, but missed as she moved away, still laughing. And Armie wondered why he was so full of sass--all he had to do was look at what he’d grown up with.


	2. Cross Your Fingers, Here We Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He wanted so much, and it was terrifying. What if the wanting was what tipped him over the edge to be like his father? What if something shifted between them, and Timmy felt like he couldn’t be himself anymore, lost that wonderful sense of humor, that playful edge, that complete, casual disregard of anything proper that snapped out of him the moment Armie got him on his knees. What if he was like _that_ all the time, if being with Armie would somehow make him less himself? What if Armie himself was then somehow less himself?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI I LOVE ALL OF YOU AND ALSO ALL THE COMMENTS YOU ALL LEAVE you're all literally the best?? I adore you so much and love interacting with you all. Please never change okay <3 Also, yes, I am a terrible tease, I'm sort of sorry but not really.

_Armie_

His arms shook a little as he worked through the last set of chest presses, eyes focused on the ceiling, hands slick under the gloves he was wearing so he didn’t lose his grip on the dumbbell. He usually went to the gym when he wanted a harder workout, somewhere with trainers and spotters and people who’d make sure he didn’t drop a dumbbell on himself and die, but he’d needed to be alone for a while with his thoughts, and his home gym was outfitted well enough that it did the trick. With one last push, he locked the bar in place above his head and dropped his hands to his face, rubbing them over the beard he’d let go a little unruly the last few days, before pushing up, panting slightly.

He reached for the water bottle on the floor, draining half of it in one swallow, before pushing to stand, methodically wiping down the equipment he’d used, rolling his shoulders a little and stretching out his arms as he wandered out. He was trying not to think about it, and in doing so was just thinking about it more, and now that he wasn’t actively doing anything, it had popped back into his brain again, at the forefront: the way Timmy’s hand had trembled slightly as he’d placed the bracelet around his wrist, the way the leather hugged his skin (he’d been right to go with the brown instead of the black, it was softer, suited him better), the way Timmy hadn’t been able to stop touching the place where their names were stamped.

Stopping in the bathroom, he finished the water bottle and tossed it before turning on the shower and stripping out of his workout clothes, dropping them in the hamper before getting under the spray and then just standing there, eyes closed and face upturned into the water, sighing. He didn’t _do_ this. And that was the thought he kept coming back to--he didn’t do this, this wasn’t him. He did short-term contracts, nothing more, never anything that could lead to anything more serious. He didn’t get emotionally involved with mouthy, sarcastic subs with doe eyes that caught a person unawares when they focused on him. He didn’t sign fucking _courtship contracts_ , didn’t ever have to think about proper protocol of dating a sub because he didn’t _date_ them, he just kept them around for the duration of a contract, kept the rules the same for every one, and then moved on to the next when the desire suited him.

So this? This was entirely new, and he found himself, for the second time in recent memory, anxious about something. It was a good thing his father was dead already, Armie thought, shampooing his hair and snorting a little to himself, otherwise he’d be disinherited for having the audacity to be nervous about something. His father had always been scornful of people who showed any sort of emotion he considered weak, and nerves were the weakest of all. _A submissive’s emotion,_ he’d often said, waving one hand dismissively. _Useless to anyone else._

Armie realized he’d clenched his hands into fists around the loofah he was currently using, causing soap to bubble up in protest around his fingers, and he made himself take a deep breath, relax, and finish rinsing off. He grabbed a towel and shut off the water, shaking his hair out of his eyes as he dried off, staring at his blurry reflection as he did so. Maybe he was worried he’d end up like his father, he considered, hitching the towel around his waist and heading to the closet to dress for the day. Maybe he was worried that even after all this, after getting away and going to school and unlearning the traditionalist bullshit he’d been raised to believe that some part of him under it all was still his father, was still there believing that subs were weak, were useless for anything except following orders. And since he’d never _done this_ before, had never actually attempted to have a real relationship with a person, he was in uncharted territory in more ways than one.

Sure, he thought, dragging on suit pants and a shirt, selecting a matching tie from the drawer where they were kept meticulously organized, he’d had subs before, and sure, they’d had relationships of a sort, but both parties knew it was mostly more about sexual gratification than anything else. He hadn’t ever been interested enough in someone else to attempt to take it any further than that. But Timmy, he thought, shrugging on his jacket and studying himself in the mirror, minutely making adjustments to the line of his shirt, his jacket, Timmy was different. He wanted to get to know him, wanted to hear him talk about art and music and see his eyes glaze over when Armie called him a brat or got his hands in that mass of curls, wanted to take him apart and be the one to put him back together, wanted---

He wanted so much, and it was terrifying. What if the wanting was what tipped him over the edge to be like his father? What if something shifted between them, and Timmy felt like he couldn’t be himself anymore, lost that wonderful sense of humor, that playful edge, that complete, casual disregard of anything proper that snapped out of him the moment Armie got him on his knees. What if he was like _that_ all the time, if being with Armie would somehow make him less himself? What if Armie himself was then somehow less himself?

As he walked to get cufflinks from the dresser, his eye fell on the photo he kept on top of it--himself, holding his newborn niece, and Viktor, arm slung around Armie’s shoulders, smile easy, collar just visible under the neck of his sweater. Viktor hadn’t changed, Armie reminded himself, selecting cufflinks and then just setting them on the dresser and studying the photo. Well, he had, but he’d changed from the quiet, terrified boy Armie had picked up from boarding school into the intelligent, mouthy, sarcastic person he’d then remained. He hadn’t lost any of his edge or personality when he’d bonded with Sherry, when they’d found each other. If anything, he’d become _more_ comfortable in his own skin, walking around with a sheen of calm over him that hadn’t been there before, and he and Sherry worked. He knew people often mistook her for the submissive--after all, she barely topped five foot two, looked as soft as the peaches her home state of Georgia was famous for, her roots running through her voice in an accent that could go from southern belle to don’t-fuck-with-me in an instant, but he knew she didn’t take offense to the assumptions. In fact, she and Viktor got a kick out of telling people it was the other way around, watching them stammer over apologies or just look flat-out confused.

So if they could make it work, Armie mused, picking up the cufflinks again, and make it work well, then he and Timmy could make it work. They could make it balance. And he didn’t want to restrict the kid, for god’s sake. He didn’t want to take away any of his permissions or forbid him to keep working or something else ridiculous. He wanted to have basic rules, yes, wanted to do certain things with (and to) him, but he didn’t want to be his father, or the other doms he saw out and about from time to time, snapping orders at their subs, pushing to control every aspect of their lives. It was important to have structure, but that didn’t mean taking away someone’s freedoms. 

Sighing, finally dressed, he headed downstairs to gather his things for the office. It was going to be fine, he thought. He and Timmy could make this work. He didn’t think Timmy would have said yes if he hadn’t thought it could work, and Armie wouldn’t have even suggested it if he thought it couldn’t work.

\------------

Timmy came to the office around one. He’d been expecting him at some point that afternoon, to drop off finished concepts for the artwork, talk about the rooms they needed to block off for murals, figure out dimensions for paintings and so on. He knew that the majority of that was going to be run through the designers, but since it was his building, his headquarters, he wanted to approve the designs as well. Not that he doubted Timmy, at all, but he liked knowing what was happening, keeping his fingers in everything. It also gave him an excuse to see Timmy nearly every time he was on-site, and that benefit couldn’t be discounted. So when his assistant knocked and poked her head in, announced that Timmy was there to see him, he just nodded and gestured, keeping his eyes on the memo he was reading. When the door closed, he glanced up, briefly, smiling when Timmy hovered in the middle of the room, portfolio in hand.

“Have a seat, I just have to finish this up,” he said, motioning to the little sitting area, and he saw TImmy nod before he turned back to the computer, sending back a response once he’d finished reading and then closing out of things, swiveling in his chair to study Timmy. He was slouched on the couch, one leg crossed over the other, ankle resting on his knee and foot jiggling to some internal rhythm, eyes intent as he scrolled through something on his phone. Armie pushed out of the chair and headed over, Timmy’s eyes flicking up to meet his as he did so, and he smiled, tucking the phone into his pocket and staying seated, tipping his head up to meet Armie’s eyes when Armie reached the couch, stopping in front of him.

“Hi,” Timmy greeted him, the tone shy, almost, but there was elation behind it, Armie heard it caught in his throat, a kind of giddy uncertainty, and he just grinned, hands in his pockets.

“Hi yourself. You look nice,” he commented, and felt a smugness come over him as Timmy flushed under the praise, ducking his head so curls fell in his eyes, rubbing one hand over his mouth in a tell Armie recognized from other moments when he’d been struggling to hold himself together. It was true, though, Timmy _did_ look nice--the sweater he was wearing was slightly too large for him, knitted in various shades of grey, hints of black running through the weave as well, legs clad in black skinny jeans, boots that stopped at his ankles as a concession to the snow that had started falling that morning. The sweater made Armie want to get Timmy out of it, honestly, see him shiver as the warmth was taken from him, see how long it took to get him worked up enough that his skin was flushed and warm to the touch.

“Thank you,” Timmy finally said, looking up to meet Armie’s eyes again, tongue peeking out from between his teeth to wet his lower lip, and Armie laughed, reaching down with one hand to haul him up, Timmy stumbling and catching himself with one hand against Armie’s shoulder, fingers curling into the fabric of his suit jacket.

“You _really_ are a brat,” Armie told him, tone fond, amused, and he got one hand in the curls at the nape of Timmy’s neck, just barely tugging, and Timmy’s eyelashes fluttered a little over those gorgeous eyes, and he just smiled, pushing himself up straight so he wasn’t leaning against Armie anymore.

“I just said thank you,” he replied, tipping his head back into Armie’s hand, soft smile staying in place on his lips. “You’re the one reading into things.”

“Oh? So the whole looking up at me through your hair and that coy little move with your tongue, that was just a coincidence?” Armie asked, and Timmy nodded, his hair catching in Armie’s fingers and being tugged lightly, and he sighed a little. “I see. Well, we’re going to have to work on that, then, we can’t have you _accidentally_ going around giving people the wrong impression.” Timmy snorted, and Armie grinned at him, lifting his free hand to Timmy’s mouth and brushing his thumb over the lingering shine of wetness, and he felt Timmy go absolutely still in his hands, breath shaking out warmly against his thumb.

Then he dropped his hands and took a step back, placing them back in his pockets. He watched Timmy sway in place for a moment, blinking several times, looking dazed, before his eyes refocused on Armie and he scowled, the look completely ruined by the fact that he was also trying not to smile.

“ _Now_ who’s being a brat?” he asked, swiping out with one arm to cuff Armie on the shoulder, and Armie laughed, grabbing his hand and tugging him in again, shifting so Timmy’s arm was trapped behind his back and they were pressed together, his free hand going to cup Timmy’s jaw, and he felt Timmy shudder against him, willingly going limp in his arms, head tipped up to meet his eyes, face open and soft, his eyes showing just the slightest hint of apprehension. Armie shifted his hand, rubbing his thumb over Timmy’s cheek, just keeping them in place for a moment until Timmy relaxed the rest of the way, eyes closing as he leaned into Armie’s hand, his other arm still trapped in Armie’s grip. He kept them that way for a moment before speaking, quietly.

“Did you just call the dom who’s courting you a brat?” he asked, and Timmy’s eyes fluttered open, and he looked worried again for a moment before catching the smile on Armie’s lips, and he laughed, pressing his face against Armie’s neck, nuzzling him a little.

“Maybe,” he said, drawing out the word, and Armie dropped his hand from Timmy’s arm, instead cradling the back of his head, and felt himself relaxing as Timmy’s arms wrapped around him hesitantly, linking his hands at the small of Armie’s back. 

“Oh, no, you definitely did,” he said, keeping his tone light, dragging his fingers through Timmy’s hair, feeling Timmy’s breath ghost out against his neck, the tremors in his arms when he pulled, just slightly, as he reached the ends of Timmy’s hair. “Remember what I said about putting you over my knee? I might actually have to consider that.” He _felt_ that statement punch through Timmy, felt him jolt against him, fingers gripping the back of his jacket and his face pressing into his shoulder, inhaling sharply. Felt Timmy’s hips rock forwards into his almost of their own volition, felt the hardness of TImmy through his jeans, and he smiled against Timmy’s hair.

Yes, they were going to be just fine. 

He fisted his hand in Timmy’s hair, dragging his head up from the crook of Armie’s neck, and Timmy whimpered low in the back of his throat, eyes hooded and glassy, and Armie exhaled slowly at how _wrecked_ he looked, just from this, just from casual contact and teasing, and it made him want to just get Timmy on the couch, naked, spread out under him and begging, overwhelmed and strung out, but they were taking this _slowly_ , and Timmy was going under much faster than Armie expected him to. 

So he kept his hand in Timmy’s hair, gently guiding them both back to the couch, settling on it and drawing Timmy down with him, where Timmy immediately wrapped both arms around Armie’s waist and buried his face in Armie’s neck again, and Armie hummed a little and tangled his fingers in that glorious hair before sliding his hand down to rest at the nape of Timmy’s neck, squeezing a little. “Gonna need you back with me, kid,” he said softly, resting one hand over Timmy’s arm at his waist, keeping contact in as many places as possible, and he felt Timmy huff in annoyance, and he laughed a little. “Can’t do this now, baby, not here,” he said, and Timmy actually _whined_ at that, and Armie rolled his eyes fondly. “Come on, kid. Come on back,” he said, keeping his tone soothing, his touch firm and heavy against Timmy’s skin, and finally he felt Timmy sigh and shift, peering up at him with his head still on Armie’s shoulder.

With some relief (and regret) Armie saw that his eyes were clear, and he smiled down at him. “There you are.”

Timmy flushed, shrugging a little. “I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry,” he said softly, and Armie shook his head, squeezing Timmy’s neck again.

“No, don’t apologize. I didn’t know you were going to be that susceptible, honestly,” he said, his hand moving up to play with Timmy’s hair again because he was apparently incapable of keeping his hands out of it. “I wouldn’t have pushed you if I’d known.”

“You didn’t,” Timmy said simply, shifting to give Armie easier access to his hair, sitting up properly and facing him, twisted sideways on the couch. “You didn’t push me into anything, or make me uncomfortable.” Armie’s eyes drifted down to where Timmy’s sweater now covered his groin, and Timmy huffed out a laugh, pushing at him gently. “Okay, _yes_ , getting hard in these jeans isn’t a fun time, but that’s not what I meant.” He lifted one hand to touch Armie’s cheek gently, tracing his fingers over his beard. “You didn’t, like….make me feel like you were taking advantage of me, or something,” he said, shrugging one shoulder. “I know we haven’t talked over limits or anything, but I promise what just happened wasn’t crossing any lines for me. I just haven’t ever had this sort of reaction to anyone, ever, so it’s sort of surprising for me, too.”

Armie nodded, feeling Timmy’s fingers brush against his skin as he did. “Alright. That’s what I was most worried about--I didn’t mean to get you into any sort of subspace without talking things through first, and I didn’t realize it would be that intense, between us, right away.” He grinned, reaching to flick Timmy on the shoulder. “I’m flattered that it did,” he started, laughing when Timmy pushed at him, rolling his eyes and trying not to laugh, catching his hands in his own and stilling him by lifting his hands to his mouth, pressing his lips to Timmy’s fingers. Timmy had gone still, flushing that gorgeous color again, and he bit his lip, smiling.

“You haven’t even _kissed_ me yet and you’re pulling shit like this already?” he asked, shaking his head a little. “What have I gotten into?”

Armie just smiled in response, squeezing Timmy’s fingers before dropping them, moving his hand from Timmy’s hair to his cheek again, enjoying the way the movement always made Timmy turn and nuzzle into the palm of his hand. “That’s what we’re going to talk about on Thursday,” he said, and Timmy frowned, and Armie nodded. “I know. That’s a few days away, so….what are you doing tonight? Maybe, considering how well we’re responding to each other, we should talk sooner.”

Timmy’s smile bloomed. “The only thing I’m doing tonight is having dinner with you,” he said, turning his head to kiss the inside of Armie’s wrist, and Armie literally felt his stomach jump at the contact.

“Good. You’ll stay until I’m ready to leave?” he asked, and Timmy nodded, his eyes locked on Armie’s.

“I’ll stay as long as you want.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of shitposting on [tumblr](https://sweetteatimmychalamet.tumblr.com), where I regularly go through cycles of posting nothing for two days and then posting 300 things in ten minutes.


	3. What If We Said Goodbye To Safe And Sound?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The restaurant they ended up in was a tiny Italian place, and when Armie tugged him inside, fingers firm around Timmy’s, he explained that he’d met the current owner when he was in college--it was family owned, had been for generations, was one of the hidden treasures of the city, and Timmy felt himself almost preening because Armie was sharing this with him, this secret part of himself that wasn’t all fancy suits and business meetings and important places. This was a look at his life, the one that he actually _lived_ , not the one that was projected out for magazines and competitors, and he was welcoming Timmy into it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all every single new chapter I am BLOWN AWAY at the responses I'm still trying to catch up to all the comments from last time I love you all so much thank you thank you thank you <333 THAT BEING SAID literally every chapter I'm like oh haha now I can stop this being such a slow burn and then uhhhh every chapter The Slow Burn Continues. 
> 
> This is also the longest chapter to date and got very wordy and it's ONE IN THE MORNING but you know what, fuck it, I'm posting this anyways. <3

_Timothee_

He’d expected Armie to choose something fancy, honestly--a restaurant where someone like _Armand Hammer_ could just snap his fingers and get a table and have snooty maitre d's scurrying to obey his every wish, regardless of their orientation. The thought had honestly amused him a little, and part of him was hoping to have that happen even though it would make him slightly uncomfortable, to be seen in a setting where everyone around him was as rich as Armie, would be speculating about what it meant that the two of them were seen in public. His own face wasn’t very well known publicly yet--his name, sure, but his face was really only recognizable to collectors, gallery owners, people who read the Arts section of the _Times_. Armie, on the other hand…..everyone knew his face.

So Timmy had expected to be shuttled into the silently appearing town car and driven somewhere ridiculously fancy, so when they stepped out of the office into the chilly air and Armie started walking, it took his brain a second to catch up and hurry after him, winding his scarf tighter around his neck as he fell in step. “Where are we going?” he questioned, tucking his hands in his pockets. Armie glanced down at him, expression amused.

“Well, that’s going to ruin the surprise, isn’t it?” he questioned, and Timmy rolled his eyes, bumping Armie’s shoulder with his own, a little giddy about the fact that he could _do that now_ , and Armie just laughed and slung one arm over Timmy’s shoulders, drawing him closer so their hips bumped together with each step, one hand curled around Timmy’s shoulder, holding him close, and Timmy ducked his head when a pedestrian’s eyes caught them, lingered on the hold, and he turned his face a little into Armie’s neck, overwhelmed by the fact that people were _looking_ at them, suddenly, aware that Armie was holding him with intent, that even though he wasn’t collared, the possessiveness was there, the body language telling the world that Timmy was being held onto by a _dom_ , and Armie stopped, tugging them off the middle of the sidewalk, under a building’s overhang, and turned Timmy to him, cupping his face in one hand and studying him.

“Are you okay?” he asked, and Timmy smiled a little, tipped his head into the hand, and shrugged. Armie studied him for a moment and then seemed to decide something, tapping his fingers gently against Timmy’s cheek. “I’m going to need you to use your words, baby.” Timmy sighed at that, reaching out to grip the lapels of Armie’s coat, sliding the wool between his fingers, the coarseness of the fabric helping him stay grounded. Armie was silent, watching him attentively, waiting for him to answer, and he finally found the words he was trying to say.

“Yes,” he started, slowly, stepping a little closer into Armie’s space, sliding his hand down the lapel to rest on Armie’s waist. “I’m okay, it was just….the looks people are giving me. I’ve never done this, I don’t know what I’m doing, I didn’t know what to expect, I didn’t realize people would look at _me_ like that, and it just got…” he paused, sucking his lower lip into his mouth and trying to find the word he wanted.

“Overwhelming?” Armie said softly, and Timmy nodded, Armie’s thumb brushing soothingly over his cheekbone.

“Yes. Overwhelming. Before, no one knew, you know? I mean, sure, if they saw the bracelet, they’d know, but I’ve never really been out in public with a dom before, and so just knowing that our body language _alone_ is telling people things they shouldn’t have a fucking right to know about me, it just got to be too much, and I don’t even think that makes any _sense_ , because it’s not like I’m ashamed of being submissive, I’m _not_ , I just don’t like the way people _look_ at me once they know, like I’m some sort of commodity they can just claim as their own, and--” he was aware he was babbling, clinging to Armie’s coat tighter the more anxious he got, but Armie just shifted, bringing both hands up to cup Timmy’s jaw, and, lowering his head, stopped him mid-sentence by kissing him.

It was innocent, really, all things considered, the soft press of Armie’s mouth against his, lips chilled from the cold, fingers tight on his jaw, grounding him, and when Timmy gasped a little at the contact, Armie shifted, tipped his head, and caught Timmy’s lower lip gently between his teeth, just the barest _hint_ of pressure, and Timmy heard himself whimper against the jolt of arousal pooling in his stomach, felt himself sway into Armie, head tilting up to take whatever he wanted to give. Armie pulled back then, licking over the bite gently before pressing tiny kisses to Timmy’s cheeks, his forehead, pulling back but keeping his face framed, smiling at him fondly. Timmy just blinked up at him, knew his cheeks were flushed, his eyes wide, knew Armie could feel him getting hard where their hips were now pressed together, and god, he could feel _Armie_ getting hard and he surged forwards, only to be stopped by strong hands on his jaw, and he actually _whined_. Armie laughed a little, resting his forehead on Timmy’s, fingers firm and grounding against his skin, and Timmy forgot about the people behind them, the world around them focused on Armie holding onto him, keeping him still, keeping him safe.

“Better now?” Armie asked after a moment, and Timmy huffed out a laugh, dropping his head to nuzzle at Armie’s jaw.

“In some ways, yes,” he said, and Armie dropped his hands from Timmy’s face, ran them soothingly down his back and back up, one hand resting on the back of his neck.

“You’re fine, baby,” he said, scratching the nape of Timmy’s neck idly, and Timmy practically purred at the sensation, eyes falling closed. “Anyone who looks at you, looks at us? Is a fucking moron. They don’t know what’s going on here, they don’t know anything about us. Whatever they’re thinking, it doesn’t come close to what we are, okay?”

Timmy opened his eyes then, peering up at Armie through his hair, biting one corner of his lip. “And what are we?” 

Armie smiled at him. “Well. We’re dating, for one thing. Which is a fucking weird thing to hear myself say out loud, if I’m being honest. We’re working out our relationship. We’re so much more than what they think we are, which is just a dom and his sub--they don’t _know_ what we talk about about, how fucking brilliant you are, how much I admire you. They just see the stupid, shallow things they want to see. So fuck them, okay?” 

Timmy just stared at him, and then moved forwards, unhindered by Armie’s hands this time, winding his arms around Armie’s neck and kissing him almost desperately, now that he could, now that he was _allowed to_ , unsure of how to respond to what Armie had just said but trying to convey it through the hold of his arms, the weight of his body against Armie’s, the emotion behind it in the press of their mouths together, _thank you for standing up for me even when it’s just my brain being overactive and anxious thank you for thinking the world of me thank you for picking me thank you for reassuring me for putting me at your feet and keeping me grounded for knowing what I need before I even know what I need for taking care of me for wanting to take care of me for calling me yours_ and Armie’s hands fisted in Timmy’s coat for a moment before he eased Timmy back, brushing one final, teasing kiss over Timmy’s mouth, rubbing his fingers over Timmy’s cheek a moment later.

“Well. Now people are going to know what we were doing,” he said, grinning a little pleased with himself, and Timmy lifted his own hand to Armie’s, hissing a little where his skin was sensitive from the friction of Armie’s beard, and he huffed.

“You’re very pleased about this, aren’t you?” he asked, and Armie just smiled cheerfully, swinging one arm over Timmy’s shoulders again and leading them back onto the sidewalk.

“Yes,” he replied, not sounding at all remorseful and making Timmy roll his eyes. “Yes, I am.”

Timmy wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of admitting that it thrilled him a little, knowing the redness was a marker, a solid indication he _belonged_ to someone. He could keep that to himself for now.

\------------

The restaurant they ended up in was a tiny Italian place, and when Armie tugged him inside, fingers firm around Timmy’s, he explained that he’d met the current owner when he was in college--it was family owned, had been for generations, was one of the hidden treasures of the city, and Timmy felt himself almost preening because Armie was sharing this with him, this secret part of himself that wasn’t all fancy suits and business meetings and important places. This was a look at his life, the one that he actually _lived_ , not the one that was projected out for magazines and competitors, and he was welcoming Timmy into it.

As soon as they entered, Armie was hailed from a dozen directions, and he grinned, pulling Timmy along beside him as he made the rounds, exchanging casual kisses on cheeks and one-armed hugs with half the waitstaff and an elderly woman with a practical corded collar who came out of the kitchen to frame his face in her hands, making him stoop to nearly half his height, kissing his cheeks and looking over Timmy appraisingly before shooing them away to a booth in the corner. Timmy just watched, fascinated at this glimpse of Armie he’d never seen, and when Armie gestured to the booth, indicating he pick where to sit, he slid in, shrugging out of his coat as Armie took the side opposite him. He knew he was grinning, almost stupidly, and Armie finally flushed a little. “What?” he asked, shedding his own coat and sitting across from Timmy in a ratty old vinyl booth in what had to have been a thousand-dollar-suit, looking just at home as he did in board meetings. Timmy shrugged, grin in place.

“Nothing. I don’t know, it’s such a different picture here than the one I usually have of you. It’s not bad, it’s just different. It’s nice. They obviously care a lot about you, and you about them.” He glanced over when one of the waitresses, another sub with a bracelet circling one wrist, came over, setting down a platter of antipasto and telling them her grandmother was bringing them the specials before vanishing. Timmy reached for it, not thinking, and then froze, lowering his hand to the table and looking up at Armie. If they were in public, officially, as dom and sub, he was supposed to, technically, wait for the dom to eat first or for permission to take something first. 

Armie noticed, of course, and reached over the table, squeezing Timmy’s fingers. “I don’t care about protocol right now. You can take whatever you want off the table whenever you want. Okay?” He waited for Timmy to nod before dropping his fingers and continuing, helping himself as well. “Vinnie was one of the first friends I made in college--we were in a lot of the same business classes, and his family welcomed me and Viktor as though we were their own sons. I make it over here at least once a week, and I’m his daughter’s godfather.”

Timmy was quiet for a moment, fiddling with his napkin, the rim of his water glass, before speaking. “That says a lot about you, you know.” When Armie looked surprised, Timmy shrugged, grabbing an olive and popping it in his mouth. “You’re Armie Hammer, you own like half of the east coast and another half of the west, your company has shares in almost everything known to man, and you still make time to frequent local places and probably post about them on social media so people frequent here because if you like it, it must be good?” He shook his head a little, laughing. “It’s a good thing, it’s. It’s really fucking impressive, honestly, and it’s very telling. You said earlier that you admire me, but I admire you right back.”

He bit his lip when he was done speaking, Armie just staring at him across the table before reaching over and taking his free hand, lifting it and kissing the inside of his palm, then brushing his lips just above where the courtship bracelet rested, and TImmy shivered, leaning closer across the table. “Thank you,” Armie said, linking their fingers and resting their joined hands on the table. “Seriously. Thank you. I’m really kind of an asshole sometimes, and I’m going to apologize for that right off the bat, but that’s one of the nicest things anyone’s ever said about me.”

Timmy flushed, looking down at their joined hands and shrugging. “It’s true,” he said simply, and Armie let them sit in silence for a moment, and Timmy could feel himself being studied, but he didn’t mind it. It wasn’t a bad sort of silence, more of a watchful one, the same way he felt when Armie was studying him during the subdrop, or after it, when he had signed the contract and was on his knees in his own kitchen, a thoughtful, careful sort of watchfulness that spoke worlds about the man, told Timmy that he was always going to be looked out for, kept safe, and because the silence was safe, he didn’t feel uncomfortable in it, focused instead on the press of Armie’s fingers in his own, the beat of his pulse under the bracelet, the scrape of leather against his skin.

When Armie finally spoke again, Timmy felt his stomach jump a little. “We should talk, though, you know. About us, about limits. About experiences, what we’re expecting, that sort of thing.” Timmy nodded, peering up at Armie as the waitress came back over, setting out plates of pasta with varying sauces accompanying each dish, and Armie laughed a little, asking how she expected them to eat all of this. When she just grinned and shrugged, he rolled his eyes and told her to thank her grandmother, and then nudged one of the empty plates she’d brought with her at Timmy. “Anything you choose is going to be good,” he said, and Timmy nodded, regretting having to let go of Armie’s hand to pile food onto his plate, but he did so, fiddling with his silverware while Armie did the same, and when Armie frowned at him a little, Timmy shrugged.

“I know you said I shouldn’t wait for you, but it just….since we’re in public, and you’re _you_ and people tend to talk about things regarding you, I just. Thought it might be safer to wait and do things according to protocol,” he said softly, and Armie swore under his breath before nodding, running one hand through his hair.

“As much as I fucking hate that you’re right, you’re right,” he said, picking up his own fork and deliberately taking a bite from what was in front of him before setting the fork back down, and Timmy smiled at him before beginning to eat, humming in appreciation. 

“Well, you were right--it’s amazing. No wonder this place is packed,” he said, looking around before meeting Armie’s eyes and taking a breath, letting it out in a rush. “So. Talking. Um, what. What sort of things do you want to know?”

“Well,” Armie said, twirling pasta onto his fork expertly (and Timmy was trying not to stare at his hands as he did so, but god, it was hard _not_ to notice them and imagine them on him and he needed to stop getting distracted by everything the man did, honestly) “I guess I’m wondering what sort of experience you’ve had in the past, for starters. Your mother sent me the information from your previous contracts, but I’d like to hear about them from you.”

Timmy nodded, fiddling with his food as he spoke. “Sure. There were two, both of them my age, and I was only with each one for about six weeks. It was basic stuff--obedience, traditional submission poses and behaviors, rules to be enforced and punishments set out if they were broken, some service submission stuff,” he added, wrinkling his nose a little, remembering. The idea of essentially being someone’s servant hadn’t sat well with him, and that contract his mother had actually broken three weeks early because the dom wasn’t listening when Timmy was safewording out, but he figured if Armie had that information, he already knew that, so rehashing it didn’t make any difference. 

“I did see that in there, yes,” Armie said, reaching over to tap his fingers against Timmy’s nose, making him wrinkle it again, dodging the touch and kicking Armie lightly under the table. “I saw that he wasn’t listening to you at all, and so you got out of it early, but it didn’t detail what was happening that you didn’t like. You don’t _have_ to tell me, but I don’t want to repeat things that make you uncomfortable.”

Timmy shrugged, taking another bite of food and thinking while he swallowed, finally answering, “I don’t mind, like, being asked to bring someone a drink or something, or clear tables or whatever, but he wanted to use me like furniture? And that’s….definitely a hard no for me.” Armie nodded, reaching out to brush Timmy’s hair off his forehead, fingers lingering at his temple for a moment.

“Noted. Was there anything else that happened that you didn’t like?” Timmy shrugged.

“Not particularly. Like I said, it was mostly just basic stuff, to kind of get them used to being in charge of someone else, really.” He looked up from his plate to see Armie eyeing him a little confused, and he blinked, taken aback. “What? Is that….was that not specific enough? I can be more specific, but it was literally nothing more than that.”

“No, you were specific enough, but I’m just….a little curious as to how far, exactly, that went,” Armie said carefully, almost as though he weren’t quite sure how to word what he was asking, and Timmy just blinked at him, waiting for him to elaborate. When Armie just blinked back at him, he made a vague gesture with his fork, raising his eyebrows.

“I just told you how far it went? I don’t….understand what you’re getting at here, honestly,” Timmy said, a little baffled. Armie frowned and leaned in farther, looking more speculative than anything at this point, resting his arms on the table and studying Timmy seriously. This time it did make him nervous, the silence, the intensity of Armie’s glare, and Timmy squirmed a little in his chair, weirdly uncomfortable and turned on at the same time under the scrutiny, and finally he just huffed and rolled his eyes. “Okay, Armie, seriously, _what_?” he sounded aggravated and he knew it, but he didn’t like guessing games, and that was what this was turning out to be, and he was getting more anxious by the second.

Seeming to sense it, Armie reached out with one hand, stilled Timmy’s tapping fingers by covering them with his own, and with an almost blank face, asked in the calmest tone possible, “Timmy, I’m asking how far things went…..sexually.”

Timmy actually _felt_ himself flush all over, felt his hand jerk under Armie’s, and he rolled his lips between his teeth, anxiety an itch at the back of his shoulders and in his sternum, crawling up into his throat and down into the pit of his stomach, making itself known in the sudden shaking of his leg, heel taptaptapping on the floor of the restaurant as he looked down at their joined hands, silence stretching out between them until he finally blew out a breath and jerked one shoulder, answering as quietly as he could and still be sure Armie could hear him over the noise, “it, um. It didn’t.”

The silence stretched out again, and he finally dared to look up, and his breath shuddered out at the look on Armie’s face, the way his eyes had gone dark again, the tightening of his fingers on Timmy’s, the almost naked arousal blatant, and he couldn’t look away, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but imagine that look on him all the time, hands pressing over his skin and beard scraping against the insides of his thighs and against his ribs while Armie looked at him _like that_ and finally Armie spoke, his voice the same deep rumble it was when he was _telling_ Timmy to do things, the voice that made Timmy want to slide to the floor and rub his face against Armie’s leg like a cat and lose himself in the feeling of being taken care of.

“When you say it didn’t, you mean…..ever? At all? Not just in the contracts?” Timmy shook his head, unable to speak, unable to really _move_ after being pinned with that gaze, and Armie’s eyes went even darker, tensing across the table from him, his hand a vice on Timmy’s but it didn’t _hurt_ , if anything it just made him more turned on, the fact that him admitting this made Armie react like this, and Timmy finally managed to gather some of his wits, ran his tongue over his bottom lip and shifted his head slightly so he was looking up at Armie through his eyelashes, voice husky with _need_ when he finally spoke:

“No, never. Not with anyone.”

Armie shifted then, sliding out of his side of the booth before resituating himself next to Timmy, thigh pressed to his, side pressed to his, one long, hot line of body heat caging Timmy into the corner of the booth and he should have felt trapped, he thought, but all he felt was exhilarated, giddy, almost dizzy with desire as Armie dropped his head and nuzzled behind his ear, one hand resting on the back of Timmy’s neck again, beard scraping against his skin and magnifying the sensations, and Timmy gripped his arm in one hand, practically gasping to breathe because Armie’s reaction literally had him holding his goddamn breath, and Armie caught his earlobe between his teeth, Timmy whimpering when he did so, jerking closer to him and his fingers scrabbling for purchase on Armie’s suit jacket when Armie moved back, mouth brushing against the shell of his ear as he spoke.

“I don’t want to be one of those over-possessive doms,” he started, fingers trailing up and down the nape of Timmy’s neck, making him shiver, “but the _idea_ of being the first person to see what it takes to get you to beg, to fall apart, to take care of you afterwards….you have no idea what that’s like.”

Timmy managed a shaky laugh, head falling back against Armie’s hand. “I think I have a little idea,” he said, breathless, and felt the warm exhale of Armie’s laugh against his temple before Armie pulled away slightly, curling his fingers in the ends of Timmy’s hair, taking a breath, visibly trying to compose himself, and for some reason, Timmy thought, that was the hottest image of all.

“We really need to talk about this, then,” he said, idly playing with Timmy’s hair, keeping his eyes on Timmy’s serious now under the thrum of arousal still echoing in them. “And we probably shouldn’t do it here. Would you feel comfortable coming back to my place with me tonight to talk about it? I promise, nothing else is going to happen, but if you’re not comfortable with it, I’ll take you home after dinner and we can talk about it some other way, or some other time.”

Timmy thought for a moment, studying the man in front of him, thinking about the obvious way he’d reacted when Timmy revealed he was still a virgin, the way he’d pressed into his space but not taken advantage of it, had composed himself and not pushed, the way he was so careful to tease him but never be overly improper about it, the way he kept checking in, asking to make sure everything was okay, how considerate he was of anything and everything the two of them did together, and he took a breath.

“Would you mind talking about it with me at home, instead?” he asked, reaching up to trace over his jaw lightly. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, going back to your place, it’s….really more that I don’t trust myself,” he admitted, smiling a little. “And with my mom there? Nothing is going to happen.”

Armie laughed, resting their foreheads together for a moment before ducking, kissing Timmy quickly, sweetly, and sliding out of the booth, making Timmy mourn the loss as Armie moved back to his side of the booth. “That’s a very good point,” he agreed, studying Timmy across the table again. “We can go back to your place.”

Timmy bit his lip to keep from smiling too hugely, and Armie just laughed a little, nudging his foot under the table. “You are something else, kid. At least I know you’ll always be keeping me on my toes.”

Timmy smiled a little smugly at that, winding more pasta around his fork and nudging Armie back. “You like mouthy, sarcastic, bratty subs. You’ve told me. Good thing I fit the bill, huh?”


	4. What if We Close Our Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So the fact that Timmy had been in two contracts and hadn’t ever, with anyone, was just a little stunning.
> 
> But he’d meant it when he’d said the idea of it was…..overwhelming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO HI IT'S OKAY IF YOU GUYS HATE ME AFTER THIS CHAPTER BECAUSE IT WON'T BE AS MUCH AS I HATE MYSELF!!!!! Literally why the heCK was I like "oh yeah, slow burn, this will be toTALLY FINE" because now I just want them to get to THE PART I NEED TO COME NEXT and every time they're like nah we're gonna do this instead!!!!
> 
> And literally if y'all wanna choke me like that's fine. I PROMISE THE KINK NEGOTIATION IS COMING I was just like wait I......need it to be from Timmy's POV but this chapter was ARMIE'S POV but things Still Happen and the story moves along idk I love you guys thanks for being patient with my SLOW BURN WRITING SELF. 
> 
> *armie hammer voice* see ya, fuckers

_Armie_

Of all the things he’d been expecting to be revealed during dinner, the revelation that Timmy was a _virgin_ hadn’t been one of them. He had the old contracts, yes, from his previous doms, but those never went into sexual detail, just had the basics about names, duration of the contract, basic rules set in place, safewords. He knew from his research on Timmy when he was looking more into the painter behind the art that had tugged at him that he’d been fined a couple of times for little things--the first one when he was eighteen, for kissing a baseline at a submissive’s rights protest that had been covered in the paper and Armie had grinned at that one--and he’d just _assumed_ that that meant he’d tried other things as well.

Also, he’d never really known a sub who _hadn’t_ been in some sort of short-term contract that was to help them figure out what they liked and didn’t like, what did work and didn’t with doms, that helped the doms learn how to get them into subspace, how to bring them out of it, take care of them after. How the two of them worked together, when done correctly--and usually, that involved sex of some sort. So the fact that Timmy had been in two contracts and hadn’t ever, with anyone, was just a little stunning.

But he’d meant it when he’d said the idea of it was…..overwhelming. The thought of being the first person to get to take Timmy apart piece by piece, see those gorgeous eyes hooded and blurred as he slipped under, reduced to begging, shivering, opening up and trusting Armie with everything he had, the two of them fitting together perfectly…..well. It was a really good thing they were at a booth that was in a more private corner of the restaurant, because his suit pants weren’t exactly forgiving. And now that it was _out there_ it couldn’t be taken back, couldn’t be erased from his brain, and the rest of the time they were eating it was all he could do to not stare openly at Timmy, tell him all the things he wanted to do to him, wanted to see if he liked, wanted to discover about where else he flushed that lovely shade of red and how his legs would look with rope-marks on them, his hips covered in tiny bruises the shape of Armie’s fingers, hickeys sucked on his neck in lieu of a collar so everyone would know he _belonged_ to someone, even if it wasn’t official.

That was getting ahead of himself, though, Armie thought as they left the restaurant, one hand on the small of Timmy’s back as he hailed a cab, ushering him in first before sliding in and giving Timmy’s address to the driver. They hadn’t made anything official other than the courtship contract, and even though Armie was fairly sure that would end in them being bonded, Timmy always had the right to change his mind, Armie himself could change _his_ mind, any number of things could happen that could lead to him being possessive not really being the best idea.

He looked over when Timmy leaned against him, huffing out a laugh when Timmy pressed his nose into Armie’s neck, wrapping one arm around him and idly drawing designs on his shoulder with his fingers. “Your nose is _freezing_ ,” he informed him, and Timmy’s only response was to press his nose behind Armie’s ear instead, breath huffing out in a laugh against his skin, the contrasting temperatures making Armie shiver a little. He shifted his hand, winding his fingers in Timmy’s hair instead, not pulling, just tightening his hold slightly until he felt Timmy gasp against his skin, one hand moving to grip Armie’s leg as he shuddered at the sensation, and Armie smiled out the window, keeping them like that the rest of the drive.

\------------

When they arrived, he followed Timmy up the drive, crowding just a little closer than he needed to as Timmy unlocked the door and ushered him inside, glaring at him like he knew exactly what Armie was up to, and Armie just smiled innocently at him as Timmy closed the door, engaging the locks before moving to the coat closet, hanging his own and holding out his hand for Armie’s. When Armie hesitated, Timmy rolled his eyes. “I’m not doing this because it’s some weird sub thing or I feel like I have to,” he said, keeping his hand out. “It’s just polite to hang up guest’s coats, and also my mom hates it when I just leave stuff lying around.” Armie grinned and stripped off his overcoat, handing it over, watching as Timmy hung it next to his before moving to the kitchen and pulling up one sleeve of his sweater, holding his braceleted arm out under the mini-scanner attached to the wall.

It emitted a low hum, then beeped twice. _Welcome home, Timothee,_ it said, and Armie watched as the list of what Timmy had done that day flashed across the screen, each new item being highlighted in green before disappearing from the screen, and he clenched his jaw at the fact that this even had to _happen_ , that Timmy was required by law to report to his head of household what he’d done, who’d scanned for his permissions, where he’d needed to be scanned to find out if he could take a train, hail a cab, buy fucking food on his own, and once Timmy dropped his arm and was pulling his sleeve back over the bracelet, Armie was tugging him close, one hand at the nape of his neck and the other at the small of his back. He felt Timmy’s arms wrap around him in return, the younger man sighing a little.

“I feel like this is because of the scanner?” Timmy said, trying to keep his tone light, but Armie could hear the trepidation, the frustration, and he nodded, making Timmy sigh again and he shrugged in Armie’s hold, arms tightening on his waist. “It sucks, yeah, but it’s not forever, and my mom barely checks it, if it wasn’t fucking _illegal_ not to have one we wouldn’t, but you know they do the random checks, so….” he trailed off and Armie shook his head, pulling back and kissing Timmy’s forehead, remembering the days when Viktor would have to come home and do it, how much it infuriated him that he had all the freedoms he could want while his brother’s were controlled by him--and even though he hadn’t put any restrictions on Viktor, the fact that he _could have_ if he wanted to was bullshit. 

He knew Nicole was lenient with Timmy as well, but that didn’t make it any less bullshit, and he said as much, watching Timmy’s smile bloom, eyes softening a little as he reached up to touch Armie’s jaw lightly. “It’s okay,” he said, nodding when Armie shook his head. “Yeah, it is. It sucks, so like it’s not _entirely_ okay, but it could be worse. And it isn’t forever.” The unspoken, _if you collar me_ hung between them, and Armie lowered his head, kissing Timmy softly before stepping back, taking Timmy’s hand as it fell from his waist and linking their fingers together.

“No,” he said, eyes steady on Timmy’s as he rested his free hand on his throat, gently, feeling Timmy lean into the touch, his fingers tightening on Armie’s. “It won’t be forever.”


	5. Mortal Body, Timeless Souls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tt was still strange to be alone in his house with Armie, the house suddenly feeling smaller as he became more and more aware of the weight of Armie’s fingers in his, the way their hands were interlocked, the way Armie’s thumb was absently rubbing against his as Timmy tugged him from room to room, finally ending up in the kitchen again, where he finally saw the notepad on the counter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HERE, YOU VULTURES!!!! I'm just kidding, you're not vultures, I love ALL OF YOU SO MUCH especially the fact that we are all collectively yelling at me about how slow of a burn this slow burn is and liSTEN I WARNED YOU!!!! Anyways, have some kinky talk and cute things!!!
> 
> ALSO JUST SO YOU ALL KNOW: I will be on vacation visiting my best friend (who lives out of state and I haven't seen in over a year) from MAY 31 TO JUNE 7. I will have my laptop with me, but I might not update between those dates just because I want to spend as much time with her as possible. I have ONE MORE THING I'm hoping to get posted for this before I leave but I also work every day leading up to my departure and I might not have time. JUST A HEADS UP IN CASE THAT HAPPENS.
> 
> <3333

_Timothee_

It was quieter in the house than he thought it would be, and he kept his fingers linked with Armie’s as he headed towards the back of the house, frowning a little. “Mom?” he called out, peering into her study and then the living room, mouth twisting a little as he thought. He wasn’t worried--she was an adult, she could take care of herself--but he felt a little strange being alone in the house with a dom who was officially courting him, even though, since Armie _was_ courting him, he didn’t _need_ a chaperone any longer. But it was still strange to be alone in his house with Armie, the house suddenly feeling smaller as he became more and more aware of the weight of Armie’s fingers in his, the way their hands were interlocked, the way Armie’s thumb was absently rubbing against his as Timmy tugged him from room to room, finally ending up in the kitchen again, where he finally saw the notepad on the counter.

He picked it up with his free hand, Armie moving in to stand next to him, reading the note over his shoulder: _Bonsoir, cherie. Pauline and I went to that new play opening tonight since you had dinner plans. We may be having drinks after with friends, but I’ll keep you posted. Xox._

Yes, the house definitely felt too small in this moment, he thought, glancing at the clock and realizing it was just barely curtain time, that they would be gone for another few _hours_ , that he was alone in his house with Armie and no chaperones for the first time ever and they were about to talk about….very intimate things, and he was suddenly both aroused and terrified at the same time, mouth dry as he dropped the pad back onto the counter, running his hand through his hair. Armie tugged on his hand, turning Timmy to face him, and studied him, face serious.

“Since she’s not home, do you want me to go?” he asked, keeping his hand steady in Timmy’s, thumb still rubbing soothing circles against his skin, and Timmy thought about it for a moment, actually taking time to think about what he wanted--part of him did want Armie to go, wasn’t sure he was ready to be alone with him in his own _space_ , to have Armie and the the conversation they were about to have lingering around him for the rest of the evening until his mother came home and even after that, the knowledge that they’d done this in private following him around the house and pressing close to him, the words echoing back any time he looked at wherever it was they were going to be sitting while talking, knew he wouldn’t be able to sit on the couch or at the table or _wherever_ without being hard for _days_ , weeks maybe. Knew that he didn’t really trust himself enough around Armie to not make this incredibly awkward and strange, to keep his hands to himself, to be able to talk about this.

The rest of him, though? The rest of him _desperately_ wanted Armie to stay, relished the thought of them actually being able to have this conversation in private, where there was no risk of his mother or Pauline overhearing them, where he could ask questions and figure things out and talk with him, honestly, about what they were doing and what they were _going_ to be doing going forwards, and he sucked his lower lip between his teeth and shook his head, eyes locked on Armie’s, and watched the smile bloom, Armie reaching out to brush at his hair. “Then I won’t go. Where do you want to do this?”

Timmy blew out a breath, looking around the house, and then shrugged and tugged Armie into the living room, settling on the couch and pulling Armie down with him. When Armie was seated, Timmy readjusted on the seat, settling facing him, legs crossed on the cushion under him, his arm draped over the back of the couch, and Armie mirrored him slightly, drawing one leg up on the couch as he shifted to face Timmy, and they sat there for a moment in silence before Timmy snorted, covering his face with his hands.

“Sorry,” he said, voice muffled and starting to laugh a little. “God, sorry, this is so weird and awkward, I’m making it so weird.”

“You’re not,” he could hear the amusement in Armie’s voice, and slivered his fingers apart to watch Armie smile at him. “It’s awkward--it’s always a little awkward, honestly, unless subs come into contracts with common kink checklists filled out or what they will and won’t do already written out to be added into contracts. So figuring it out for the first time is always going to be a little weird.” He reached out, squeezing Timmy’s knee gently through his jeans, and Timmy dropped his hands, shivering a little at the contact. “It’s fine, though. Seriously.”

Timmy nodded, putting one hand over Armie’s and smiling a little when Armie turned his hand over so their palms could touch, and he rubbed his fingers gently over the inside of Armie’s wrist, keeping their eyes locked. “So how….how do we do this, then?” he asked, feeling Armie mimic his movements, fingers rubbing slowly around the edge of the bracelet stamped with their names on it, making Timmy’s pulse kick. “Do you just. Ask me things and I tell you if I think I’d like them or not?”

Armie shrugged. “We can do it that way. Or I can also tell you what I like and you can tell me if you think it sounds appealing. Or you can tell me what you think you like.” He grinned suddenly, a little wicked. “If you’ve learned anything from porn or not.”

Timmy dropped his head, _felt_ himself turning bright red, and turned to bury his head in the back of the couch. “Wow, you _suck_ ,” he said, huffing out a laugh. “You know my mom can see _everything_ I do online, right? That kind of deters a lot of the “learning from porn” type of things I could do.”

Armie’s laugh was a soft vibration against his fingertips, gentle hands tugging his head up, warm mouth pressed against his and hands cupping his face and holding him in place until he sighed and closed his eyes and leaned in, Armie licking over his lower lip before deepening the kiss, tracing the roof of Timmy’s mouth with his tongue before pulling back, laughing against his mouth as Timmy whined and panted against his lips, chasing him in an effort to get him back but being held in place by the hands on his jaw, and he opened his eyes and pouted, frowning. “That’s not _nice_.” Armie raised one eyebrow, one hand sliding to rest on the back of Timmy’s neck, squeezing lightly and causing Timmy to lean in further, eyes fluttering closed again.

“Who said I was going to be nice?” Armie asked, his voice that low _rumble_ again that meant he was going to tell Timmy to do things, and Timmy shivered, blinking his eyes open and finding the wherewithal to wrinkle his nose at Armie, making the tiniest annoyed face possible. Armie laughed and leaned in, kissing his nose, before pulling back, keeping his hand in place on Timmy’s neck but gentling his hold. “We’ll start with the basics, then,” he said, his voice still _intent_ , firm and gentle at the same time, commanding Timmy’s attention, making him want to be good, to listen, to not miss anything. “This, at least, I know you like.” He squeezed Timmy’s neck again, making him whine a little.

“Y-yes, that. That’s a thing I like,” he stammered, moving his hand to Armie’s knee and gripping a little tighter than needed. “But if you keep doing it like _that_ I might be useless after a while.” Armie just smiled at him and loosened his hold again. “I also, um. Earlier, in your office, when you….had my arm pinned behind my back? I liked that, it was…..nice, it felt sort of safe? Not being able to move my arm should have felt weird, or like I was trapped, but I felt safe. I knew you were going to make sure I was held where you wanted me, and not uncomfortable or anything.”

Armie’s eyes softened at that, a small smile playing at his lips as he shifted, curling his fingers in the ends of Timmy’s hair. “That’s exactly what I’m going to do,” he said softly. “I’m going to make sure you’re safe. And I’m going to take that to mean you’d be okay with me tying you up sometime? Leaving you just how I want you while I do whatever I want to you?” Timmy jerked, _feeling_ his cock harden in his pants, his fingers dig into Armie’s leg, and Armie laughed this time, looking ridiculously pleased with himself. “I’m going to take that as a yes,” he said, tugging Timmy’s hair a little harder, and Timmy felt his mouth fall open, head tipping back into Armie’s hand, his throat bared for him to do whatever he wanted, and Armie leaned in, pressing open-mouthed kisses over his pulse point, behind his ear. “I have this rope I want to use with you,” he continued, voice low. “Black and soft and just textured enough to leave the most beautiful marks behind once you’re untied. I want to see how it stands out against your skin, watch you tied up and strung out and _begging_ , make you fall apart and see the proof I was there afterwards, all those pretty marks on your skin. Would you let me do that, baby?”

The question wasn’t even out of his mouth before Timmy was swearing, launching himself at Armie across the couch cushion, arms tangled around his neck and kissing him, desperate and messy, whimpering in the back of his throat as he shifted, straddling him on the couch, the tiny voice in the back of his head telling him to _stop_ this wasn’t his _place_ , but hearing Armie _say_ that was making him _crazy_ , and he finally got his legs on either side of Armie’s lap, rolling his hips down desperately, breathing out Armie’s name at the contact, feeling the length of him hard in his suit pants, pressed against him, and he shuddered, clinging to him and gasping into his mouth, and Armie let him, for all of about fifteen seconds, before gripping his hair tightly in one hand and pulling his head back, arching his neck until he was blinking up at the ceiling, his free hand wrapping around Timmy’s throat, exerting the barest pressure.

“Stop.” It was that tone again, firm but gentle, and Timmy shuddered against the pleasure-pain of the hand in his hair, his head tipped so far back it was hard to breathe, and that just made him want it _more_ and he tried to press forwards again, even though everything in him was screaming to _listen_ , to _stop_ because his dom said to, and Armie just tightened the hand in his hair. “ _Stop_ ,” he said again, and Timmy stilled instantly, panting out sharp, hoarse breaths, and the hand in his hair gentled, tipping his head forwards to meet Armie’s eyes. “That’s my good boy. You’re going to listen when I tell you things, aren’t you, baby?” Timmy nodded a little desperately, trembling in the effort to stay still, to not lean into the hand at his throat or back into the one in his hair, legs straining to hold himself up and off Armie’s lap, and Armie just kept him like that for a few moments, testing, almost, his reaction to _actually_ being told what to do, and finally dropped his hands, holding his arms out. “Come here,” he invited, and Timmy instantly scrambled to drop into his lap, tucking his head under Armie’s chin and wrapping his arms around his waist, wiggling until he was seated in his lap properly, one of Armie’s arms around his waist, holding him in place, the other resting in his hair.

They were quiet for a few moments, and the dread finally started kicking in, the realization he hadn’t _listened_ , and he shifted uncomfortably, pressing his face in Armie’s neck. Seeming to realize what he was thinking, Armie hummed a little. “I’m not mad, baby. I got a little carried away, and you reacted. But you didn’t listen when I told you to stop the first time.” Timmy huffed out a breath, keeping his face hidden. “However,” Armie said, sounding amused, “since we didn’t set any boundaries or parameters for this talk, I’m not going to punish you for not listening. This time,” he added, making Timmy shiver and nod against his neck, pressing a small kiss there.

“Thank you,” he said softly, the words coming out before he even realized it, and he relaxed a little after it was said, feeling a little less out of sorts, a little more grounded, as though thanking Armie for acknowledging he was bad but explaining why it wasn’t a bad _thing_ this time were natural, expected. And it didn’t feel as strange as he thought it would, it felt….right. 

He was quiet for another minute, then tipped his head up, resting his head on Armie’s shoulder. “I like when you pull my hair,” he said, smiling a little. “I like when you play with it, too. I like that you keep your hand on my back or around my shoulders when we walk places. It’s grounding, and I didn’t ever really think I wanted that, but it. It feels right.”

Armie kissed the top of his head. “Good. I’m glad, and I’d like to keep doing it, if that’s alright with you. I like knowing where you are, keeping you close.” Timmy nodded, and Armie continued. “I like tying people up, and I won’t go into detail about that again, lest you get fiesty again,” he teased, laughing when Timmy rolled his eyes. “I like using toys for stimulation and also just casually, around the house.” He traced one finger down the slope of Timmy’s nose. “For example, I’d like to fuck you and then have you wear a plug to keep you open and ready for me until I’m ready to fuck you again.” 

Timmy gripped his suit jacket at that, hips jerking up against empty air. “You have _got_ to stop doing that,” he said, teeth gritted against how badly he _wanted_ , and Armie laughed, hugging him tightly around the waist and nuzzling his temple.

“It’s so fun, though,” he said, and Timmy rolled his eyes.

“For you maybe. You know what you like, I….I don’t have any idea, and honestly, I….I would like anything as long as it were with you,” he said, suddenly shy, burying his face in Armie’s neck.

“Hey, baby, come on, look at me,” Armie coaxed him gently, shifting to cup his jaw again, drawing his face up so they were looking eye-to-eye. His eyes were fond, and he brushed his lips over Timmy’s forehead. “How about this, then: before we start anything, ever, I’ll tell you what I’d like to do, and you can tell me if you want to try it or not. We’ve got safewords, and if you don’t like it, you _use_ them, and I’ll stop, and we can try something else.” He grinned, the look shifting to something a little possessive, and Timmy swallowed hard. “I like the idea of being the first person to show you just how many ways there are to make someone fall apart.”

Timmy shivered at that, and then nodded, taking a breath. “I think that sounds good. I, um. I am _definitely_ here for just, you know, trying things out.” He was trying so hard to sound casual, like everything Armie was saying wasn’t going straight to his dick, and by the smirk Armie was giving him, he knew he was failing. “And for safewords, honestly, I just use the standard green-yellow-red. I’ve never really had to set a specific one other than that.” 

“Green-yellow-red works for me,” Armie said, playing idly with the ends of his hair again, making Timmy hum a little, pleased. “I’ll check in with you periodically, especially when you’re in subspace, to make sure you can still let me know how you’re doing.” He rested his hand on the back of Timmy’s neck, serious suddenly. “It’s important that if I ask you a direct question when checking in that you answer me. Even if it’s hard or you need a moment to think about it, if you’re in subspace, I’m waiting until I have an answer. You being safe is the most important thing.”

Timmy flushed a little, leaning in to kiss Armie before remembering the earlier directive to stop, and he hesitated. Armie noticed, and smiled a little, leaned in to meet Timmy halfway, the kiss sweet, gentle, reassuring as Armie held him close, lingered over it before pulling back. “You’re always allowed to kiss me,” he said, brushing his thumb over Timmy’s lower lip. “But if you want to instigate anything else, I want you to ask.” Timmy nodded, warmth spreading through his chest, up into his throat, and Armie exhaled slowly, brushing his thumb over Timmy’s cheek. “You’re gorgeous all the time, but especially when you get praised, and when you get told what to do,” he said softly, studying Timmy as though he were precious, something to be held close, and he dropped his head, flustered. “It’s beautiful,” Armie continued, “your eyes change, just a little, and you get more open. It’s beautiful, and also a little terrifying. That’s a lot of trust to accept from a person, and I never want to take advantage of that trust.”

Timmy peered up at him through his hair, shifting to wrap his arms around Armie’s neck again, pressing as close as he could. “You couldn’t,” he said, resting their foreheads together. “I do trust you. I’ve never trusted anyone enough to enter into anything real with them, until you. I know you’re going to take care of me, and you’re going to let me be who I am, even though I’m still sort of figuring how all of this fits into who I am. You could never take advantage of anything I feel for you.”

Armie kissed him at that, hands hot against the small of Timmy’s back where he pushed up his sweater to rest his hand against bare skin, nails scraping lightly down his spine as he pulled back, making Timmy shudder against him. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he muttered, pressing small kisses against Timmy’s jaw, beard scraping teasingly against his skin.

“Probably,” Timmy hummed, tipping his head back for better access. “But if you die before we _actually_ have sex, I’m going to be _really_ disappointed,” he added, trying not to laugh and yelping a moment later when Armie bit his jaw.

“Brat.”


	6. Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Timmy's mom takes the text monitoring off his phone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've tried to post this!!! Three times!!!! AO3!!!! Keeps deleting the second half of it!!! Why do they hate me!!! Who knows!!!
> 
> THIS IS ENTIRELY THE FAULT OF THOSE STUPID TWEETS THIS EVENING, IT'S GARBAGE, I'M GARBAGE, I LOVE YOU ALL, GOODNIGHT

**hey, you up?**

**armie**

**armie**

armiiiieeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

_I am now, yes_

**shit did i seriously wake you up**

_No, Timmy, it’s eight am, I’m already on the way to the office._

**okay see, that’s just rude, you made me think i’d actually woken you up**

_Was that not the point of you texting me four times in the span of about a minute and a half?_

**well, yeah. but i’d still have felt kind of bad about it**

_Are you vying for me to spank you?_

**............**

**is that an option?**

_I thought i made it pretty clear that it was, yes. But wasn’t there a point to this besides you practically begging for me to punish you?_

**there might have been, but now i don’t know if i want to explore it if you’re going to keep talking about SPANKING me**

_If you get riled up, you little brat, you’re not allowed to do anything about it, so I’d watch where you go with this conversation. Don’t you want to be good?_

**yes**

_Yes, what?_

**yes, sir**

_There he is, my good boy. I knew you could do it. Do I have to ask you again why you texted me, or are you going to keep being a brat?_

**my mom took the text monitoring off the phone. or, rather, she turned off the alerts for it since the contract was officially accepted into the files this morning. she got an email about it, so….now we can text and she won’t see it.**

_And that’s why you were planning on waking me up this morning?_

**you’re doing that thing where you pretend to be mad at me or not care about a thing to show you’re not excited by the prospect. i know your text tones. you’re fooling no one!!!!**

_You’re ridiculous._

[](https://imgur.com/WCbdZoc)

**yOuRe RiDiCuLoUs**

_Oh my GOD, Timothee._

_Your mom can’t see these?_

**nope**

_Good. When you come over tonight, we’re going to discuss what’s expected of good boys, and just how far you can push being bratty before you get bruises in the shape of my hand embedded on your ass so every time you sit down for days you’ll feel the reminder that I was there._

**holy FUCK, armie**

_If you even think about touching yourself today, I’ll put you on your knees and not touch you the whole night, just keep you close enough to have you thinking about my hands on you._

_You still alive over there, sweetheart?_

**yes, sir. holy shit, though. i didn’t really know that just….you texting me things could feel like this.**

_Color?_

**it’s like fifty shades of green over here**

_That was a TERRIBLE joke, and I can’t believe I just had to read it._

_But if you’re green, that’s good. I know we didn’t talk about anything too serious the other night in terms of punishments, so we’ll talk about easing into those tonight._

**what about easing into other things?**

_That’s a cheap innuendo, and frankly, I expected better from you._

**yeah, sorry, i’m a little distracted by the thoughts of your HANDS on my ASS**

_Apology accepted._

**brat**

_That’s earning you more spanks, kid_

**oh, i’m counting on it, sir. go to work and definitely don’t picture me laying here naked**

_Keep your hands off. Otherwise I’ll have to move a little faster with some of the things I wanted to introduce you to, and if you rush my plans, I’ll be very disappointed._

**i won’t touch. i can be good. i’ll see you tonight.**


	7. Tripping on Skies, Sipping Waterfalls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now Timmy was coming over, and Armie was fucking attached to the kid, and he wanted to make sure the space looked like a space he might want to spend time, might want to be enveloped in, could feel safe in, would _want_ to be in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember when I was like "HEY I'M NOT POSTING AGAIN UNTIL I GET BACK FROM VACATION" 
> 
> Well HAHAH JOKE'S ON YOU TODAY IS MY BIRTHDAY AND I CAN DO WHAT I WANT!!!!

_Armie_

He was nervous again, and he fucking hated that he was. He knew it was stupid to be upset about it, knew that his father’s bullshit about how it was a weak emotion, an emotion for subs, was just that--bullshit. Traditionalist bullshit that was spouted to keep doms overbearing and puffed up and feeling more superior than they had any right to be and keep subs cowed, reliant, softer than _they_ needed to be, and wow, okay, this was not the train of thought he needed to be going down when he had Timmy coming over in (he checked his watch) ten minutes.

He was trying to make sure that his place looked inviting, looked like somewhere Timmy wouldn’t mind spending time, but then he realized, looking around at it, that he had no idea if that was the case for other people, either, and then that had sent him into a mini-crisis about why he had chosen this particular color scheme (dark, rich blues for the curtains and accent cushions, the deep burnt orange in plush fabrics for the rugs, the butterscotch sofa in leather so supple it practically melted when someone sat on it) and then he realized that what he was really worried about was Timmy, here, in _his_ space. His space he’d shared with numerous other subs over the years, his space where he’d just had casual contracts with them, never really developing attachments, replacing kneeling cushions and certain toys after every contract ended, never expecting someone to stick around long enough to need things to their exact specifications. 

And now Timmy was coming over, and Armie was fucking attached to the kid, and he wanted to make sure the space looked like a space he might want to spend time, might want to be enveloped in, could feel safe in, would _want_ to be in. He was also seriously considering whether or not the storage space on the third floor of the penthouse could be turned into adequate studio space, and that was getting so far ahead of himself it wasn’t even funny. There were a little under four weeks until Timmy’s birthday, until they _had_ to make a decision, and they hadn’t even finished negotiating everything yet, hadn’t really figured out where they stood certain ground, and Armie was already considering putting in better windows and better lighting and taking out walls to open up space. 

The buzzer rang, then, thankfully dragging him out of his thoughts, and he walked to the intercom. “Yes?” He listened as the doorman informed him that “Mister Chalamet” was on his way up, and Armie thanked him, moving through the living space to the small foyer that the elevator would open into, tucking his hands in his pockets and waiting, making himself take deep breaths. This was _Timmy_ , the kid who talked just as passionately about art as he did about pop culture, about show tunes and hip hop in the same sentence, argued over basketball statistics with him, came to meetings dressed impeccably but covered in paint, smiled shyly when Armie complimented him. There was nothing different just because Timmy was going to be in _his_ home this time.

Except, there might be, because of their conversation that morning. They hadn’t discussed punishments, but after thinking about it all day, all Armie could think of doing was getting Timmy over his lap and getting his hands on that pert little ass and turning it red while Timmy gasped underneath him.

The doors slid open, and Timmy was there, pink-nosed from the chill outside, curls tousled from the wind, stray flakes of snow melting on his shoulders, and he stepped out of the elevator, eyes wide and whistling between his teeth. “Okay, yeah, this already lives up to the hype of the building,” he started, eyes laughing at Armie and then gasping when Armie grabbed him by the scarf and tugged him close, one hand cradling the back of his neck while the other gripped his hip, kissing him with a one-minded intent, deepening the kiss when Timmy sighed against his mouth, licking behind his teeth and tracing the roof of his mouth, delighting in the way Timmy went limp in his arms, all his weight on Armie, the tiny, breathless whimpers escaping every time Armie scraped his teeth gently over Timmy’s plush lower lip. When he finally pulled away, Timmy looked dazed, mouth soft and reddened from the onslaught, and he just looked up at Armie with hooded eyes, reaching for him and slotting their mouths together again, arms winding around his neck. Armie hummed and pulled back, kissing him briefly one, twice, three times more, rubbing their noses together before stepping back and taking Timmy’s hand, fiercely pleased when Timmy leaned into him.

“Hi yourself,” he mumbled, resting his forehead on Armie’s shoulder for a brief moment before shaking his head a little and blinking, reorienting himself. It was beautiful to watch, Armie thought, his sweet, soft boy wanting to give in, fall over that edge into subspace, but knowing they had things to talk about, holding back, trusting that Armie would take care of him.

“Hi,” Armie said cheerfully, unwinding Timmy’s scarf and draping it over his arm, moving to unbutton his coat. “Snow started, huh?”

Timmy sighed once more, then seemed to be back to himself, and he nodded, dragging one hand through his hair and shrugging out of the coat when Armie tugged. “Yeah. It’s supposed to be nasty overnight. Gotta love winter in New York.” Armie hung up the coat and scarf, watching as Timmy wandered further into the house, studying the paintings on the walls (none of them his, no, that one was in the office, and Armie wasn’t quite sure yet how to admit he put it there because the art had spoken to him so much he wanted it close to him always) and the smaller groupings of photos, more personal, and he rocked back on his heels at one point, smiling over at Armie. “This is your brother, right?” Armie came over to see the photo he was looking at and nodded.

“Yeah, his wedding day. He was so nervous that before that photo we did tequila shots. But he made it through the ceremony, so I could that one as a win.” They were smiling in the photo, arms around each other, Viktor’s collar just barely peeking out from under his suit shirt.

Timmy didn’t laugh at the joke, was still studying the photo, quiet, and then a moment later said, “you didn’t tell me he was a submissive.” He didn’t sound upset, Armie noted, just….thoughtful, and maybe a little sad under it, and so Armie stepped closer, draping one arm around Timmy’s shoulders and drawing him close, kissing his temple.

“He is, yeah. The two of you would get along really well, he’s just as insufferable as you are sometimes, and he can definitely give you a run for your money in the sarcasm department.” Timmy snorted at that, tipping his head to rest on Armie’s shoulder.

“And he’s a lawyer, right?” he asked, and Armie nodded. “And your head of household just….let him do that?” He sounded wary, still that underlying current of something that sounded so close to sadness, and it made Armie’s stomach clench, the thought of Timmy being upset for any reason, so he just tugged him closer, held him tighter.

“I was his head of household,” he said, rubbing his thumb idly over Timmy’s shoulder where his hand was curled, holding him in place. “When he was accepted to an undergraduate program, I was his head of household. He met Sherry, his wife, when he was two years into law school. She works for the company, in advertising. I thought they’d hit it off, so I introduced them. They bonded after only a couple of months, and once she was his dom, she made no moves to stop him from becoming a lawyer. Helped him with the paperwork to apply to take the bar, fought tooth and nail with him to make sure he could become one. Neither of us can stand in the way of what he wants to do--nor should we,” he added, feeling Timmy relax a little against him. “It’s not how she was raised, and while it….is sort of how I was raised, it’s definitely not what I believe. If he wants to be a fucking lawyer, he should be able to be one, status be damned.”

Timmy turned to him when he was done speaking, eyes warm and soft, cupping Armie’s jaw gently and pushing up slightly on tiptoe to kiss him, hugging him tightly after and just staying there for a moment, nose pressed against Armie’s throat, and Armie held on, rubbing circles against his back. Finally, Timmy spoke. “I’d like to meet him. If that’s okay?”

“Hell yes you’re meeting him. I mean,” Armie said, pulling back slightly so Timmy had to look up at him and see the teasing smile on his face, “I’m a little terrified of the two of you in a room together, but he’s been bugging me about it for three weeks.” Timmy laughed at that, and Armie had to lean in again, kiss him again, get lost in the plush lips under his, the tiny gasps Timmy couldn’t hold back every time Armie kissed him.

He shifted, holding Timmy in his arms with his hands braced on Timmy’s lower back, and considered his options before settling on one. “I believe we have something to talk about?” he asked, arching one eyebrow, and Timmy flushed pink, biting his lower lip and nodding. 

Armie led them to the couch, settling on it, and when Timmy sat next to him, held out one hand, which Timmy looked at, confused. “I’d like you to sit _in_ my lap, if that’s something you’d like to do,” he said, and Timmy flushed again, but nodded, teeth caught between his lower lip as he settled himself, legs across Armie’s thighs and one arm hooked around his neck to balance. 

Armie took advantage of the new position to press kisses to Timmy’s jaw and neck as he sought his balance, delighting in the little hums he got in return. Once Timmy was situated, he wrapped one arm around his back, the other resting over Timmy’s legs. “So,” he started, rubbing Timmy’s back. “Punishments.”

Timmy went pink again, shifting in Armie’s lap, and he grinned to himself.

“I don’t want you to stop being yourself,” he said, voice turning serious. “I like you sarcastic and bratty and not afraid to speak your own mind, so that is never something you’re going to be punished for. But there is a difference between you just being _you_ and you being bratty on purpose, isn’t there?” Timmy nodded, teeth catching his lip again, eyes on Armie’s. “And those are the moments that might warrant punishments, because it seems to me like in those moments, you’re kind of vying for it.” Timmy smiled at that, shrugging one shoulder.

“I might be, a little, yeah. And….pushing those boundaries to figure out where the line is.”

“Thought so,” Armie said, pinching his hip lightly to watch him gasp and squirm. “And those are the moments you’re going to be punished. Or for disobeying direct orders, and while the brattiness is fine, the disobedience of direct orders isn’t.” Timmy nodded, and Armie smiled a little as he felt Timmy shift in his lap, and he casually moved his hand to rest higher up on Timmy’s thigh. “For example, the one I gave you this morning. You didn’t touch yourself today, baby, did you?”

Timmy shook his head a little frantically, curls falling in his eyes, and Armie hummed and rubbed up and down his thigh. “That’s my good boy. But you _did_ pull something before that with the express purpose of being bratty, didn’t you?” Timmy flushed this time, head falling as he nodded, and Armie threaded his fingers through Timmy’s hair, tugging his head back, making him gasp, mouth falling open against the pressure, a low whine escaping him. “Answer the direct questions, baby.”

“Yes,” Timmy gasped out immediately, hips bucking up into Armie’s when his hand slid higher, resting in the crease of his hip. He tugged Timmy’s hair again, a little tighter this time.

“Yes what?”

“Yes, sir,” the words came out more a moan than anything, and it went straight to Armie’s dick, hearing him actually say it out loud instead of reading it on texts, and he dropped his hand down to rest on the back of Timmy’s neck, rubbing soothingly.

“Good boy,” he crooned. “Color?”

Timmy took a breath, eyes closed, running his tongue over his lower lip. “Green.”

“Do you want me to punish you for being bratty this morning?”

“Yes, sir.” Timmy’s voice was breathy, almost non-existent, and Armie shifted, turning his head to look at his eyes, almost moaning at the look in them--hooded, blurred, that sweet beginning of subspace, and he kissed him gently, once, before squeezing his jaw.

“Over my lap, baby.” Timmy shuddered, shifting to comply, long limbs suddenly uncoordinated as he shifted, settling himself with his arms folded under his head and his hips in Armie’s lap, erection pressing into Armie’s leg, and it was everything Armie could do to not literally come in his pants like a fucking teenager at the sight of TImmy just _submitting_. He ran his hand lightly down Timmy’s back over his sweater, ended at the waist of his pants. “That’s my good boy. I’m leaving these on,” he said, tugging at Timmy’s pants and smiling a little at the huff of disappointment. “Because we still haven’t _really_ talked about this, or done anything more serious. But believe me,” he said, hand drifting to rub over Timmy’s ass through his jeans, fingers digging in just to hear Timmy moan, “one of these days I’m going to have my hands on your bare skin, turn it red, watch you flush so prettily for me.” Timmy moaned at that, hips shifting restlessly down against Armie’s, and he smiled, squeezing Timmy’s ass.

“Don’t move, baby,” he chided, voice gentle, pride thrumming through him at the way Timmy instantly stilled. “We’re going to do five for this, okay? And I want you to count them out.” He paused for a moment, then used his free hand to tug Timmy’s hair. “What do you say?”

“Y-yes, sir,” Timmy’s voice was slurred, soft, his body relaxing into Armie’s, and Armie smiled, letting go of his hair and scratching the nape of his neck. 

“Good boy.” He rubbed over Timmy’s ass, reveling in the little hitches of his breath, the tremors running through him as he tried to stay still, and finally lifted his hand, bringing it down on one side of Timmy’s ass, listening to him cry out, burying his face in the couch cushions, feeling his dick jump against Armie’s thigh.

“O-one,” Timmy breathed out, and Armie smiled. He alternated sides after that, listening to Timmy’s voice break on each hit, but his boy kept count, and after five, he stopped, rubbing his hand over Timmy’s ass again, loving the little whimpers that escaped him, the way his fists were gripping the sleeves of his own sweater, his mouth open a little, panting, hair in his eyes, and Armie considered for a moment before flipping him over gently so he was on his back, and he rested one hand on either side of Timmy’s hips, digging his thumbs into the soft flesh there, so close to his dick but not actually making contact.

“You wanna come, baby?” he murmured, Timmy gasping and arching up into his touch, nodding almost frantically, fingers scrabbling for purchase against the leather. “You’ve been so good, sweetheart,” Armie continued, pressing his thumbs harder into Timmy’s hips, sliding closer and closer to where his cock was straining against his jeans. He wasn’t sure this was going to work, but he was going to try. “If you want to come, you can come, baby, come on.” 

Timmy gasped, mouth opening as he arched up against Armie’s hand, whimpering and his hips jerking, and Armie watched as the wetness bloomed under his jeans, in complete fucking awe that Timmy was so fucking _gone_ for this that he could come just from that, and as Timmy’s chest heaved and he tried to catch his breath, limps pliant and soft, Armie gathered him up, manhandling him until they were both lying on the couch, Timmy draped on top of him and panting for breath, mouthing at Armie’s neck as he tried to ground himself, and Armie rubbed his hands up and down Timmy’s back, murmured nonsense words to him, soft praise and compliments, holding him as close as he could, keeping him grounded until Timmy surfaced again.


	8. When the Lights Start Flashing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was floating again, but it was nice. It was soft, here, his limbs suffused with warmth, heavy, leaden where he was draped over a warm body, vaguely aware of one hand rubbing under his sweater, fingers pressing against the knobs of his spine, the other idly scratching at his neck. He was vaguely aware of his own breathing, quicker than normal, his whole body tingling, a mixture of sensations and emotions he couldn’t focus on clearly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hahaaHAHAHAH YEAH this got a little angsty sooooo um sorry but it's also fluffy i promise it just sort of got away from me please love me i lOVE YOU ALL <3

_Timothee_

He was floating again, but it was nice. It was soft, here, his limbs suffused with warmth, heavy, leaden where he was draped over a warm body, vaguely aware of one hand rubbing under his sweater, fingers pressing against the knobs of his spine, the other idly scratching at his neck. He was vaguely aware of his own breathing, quicker than normal, his whole body tingling, a mixture of sensations and emotions he couldn’t focus on clearly. He was almost aware of the discomfort of…..something. Something felt weird, he knew, but he couldn’t figure out what it was, and he hummed a little, nuzzled closer to the warm patch of skin below his mouth, mouthing tiny, open-mouthed kisses at it, a stray thought about submissives in subspace floating through his head before disappearing into the soft, sugar-spun clouds of his brain, and he felt the body under him shift, the hand tighten in his hair.

He heard the low sound of Armie’s voice, but it didn’t register as _words_ , and when he felt gentle fingers at his jaw, tipping his head up, he blinked, the world swimming into focus, saw Armie smiling at him fondly, and felt his lips curve up in return. Armie kept scratching through his hair, the nape of his neck, over his temples, pressing soft kisses to his forehead, and finally Timmy felt his brain clear up, slowly, the fog lifting, becoming acutely aware of the _wetness_ in the front of his briefs, the sticky residue of his own orgasm against his skin, and he flushed, hiding his face in Armie’s shoulder, torn between embarrassment and being turned on as he remembered Armie just barely touching him, thumbs hardly grazing his cock, the _order_ to come and his body just obeying, and he squirmed a little, Armie’s hands stilling on his hair, his back.

“Hey there, baby,” he said softly, tugging Timmy’s hair lightly to get him to look up, blinking owlishly up at him, knowing he was flushed red. “You back with me?” Timmy nodded, chewing his lower lip, and Armie frowned, moving one hand to pluck at it with his thumb, freeing it from between Timmy’s teeth and rubbing his thumb over Timmy’s mouth. “What’s wrong?”

Timmy blushed again, eyes flitting away from Armie’s, and he just shifted his hips again, unable to say, _oh, you know, just got spanked and so turned on by it that I came, untouched, in my pants, like some sort of horny teenager, and now that I’ve had that I never want anything else again, thanks, but also now I have to stay in your house with come drying in my boxers and as weirdly hot as that sounds, I’d also rather not_. Armie chuckled a little, one hand drifting back over his back, resting just barely on the curve of his ass.

“Okay. Can you walk, sweetheart, do you think?” Timmy thought about it for a moment, and nodded, peering up at him once more, clearing his throat.

“Yes. I can walk.” Armie rewarded him with a kiss pressed to his nose, and shifted them both until they were sitting, and he ran his hand lightly over Timmy’s stomach. 

“You did so well, baby,” he said, free hand cupping Timmy’s cheek and smiling when Timmy tilted his head into it, eyes drifting closed. “I’m so proud of you. But you did make a little bit of a mess, so let’s get you cleaned up, huh?” Timmy flushed again, and Armie leaned in and kised him, slow and sweet, twice in succession. “It’s going to be messy sometimes. I’m not mad. You’re my good boy, right?” Timmy shivered at that, looking up at Armie and nodding, feeling that warmth spread through him again, pressing closer and kissing Armie’s jaw, and Armie curled his fingers in Timmy’s hair in response. “Come on, sweetheart. Up you go.” 

He helped Timmy to his feet, steadying him when he swayed a little upon standing, linking their hands together and tugging Timmy along behind him, Timmy pulling a face when he started walking and felt the mess in his pants, pressing close as he was led through the penthouse, Armie pausing at the stairs, raising one eyebrow at him, and Timmy eyed the stairs and nodded, squeezing Armie’s hand and following, slowly, as he led him upstairs, past a rather impressive home gym and into what he assumed was Armie’s bedroom. The color scheme, he noticed, continued here, and he was aware enough to appreciate the way they blended together, the deep blues with the fiery bronze of the orange, the soft yellow of curtains at the windows. He felt a tug on his hand and looked over at Armie, still a little sluggish, and saw that he was smiling at him fondly. Blushing, Timmy shrugged.

“It’s nice,” he said, words sounding a little slurred, and he frowned, twisting his mouth and rubbing his free fingers over his lips. Armie laughed and moved in, ducking to take Timmy’s fingers and kiss them before kissing him once, briefly.

“It’s okay. You were pretty out of it, so it may take another couple of minutes. And thank you. C’mon,” he tugged Timmy’s hand gently and Timmy followed him into the bathroom, blinking at how fucking gigantic the thing was--the entire master suite (and he hadn’t even _seen_ the closet yet, but since he’d never seen Armie in the same suit twice, he was assuming it was massive) was basically the same size as his bedroom-slash-studio, and the bathtub was enormous, the separate, free-standing shower even bigger, and he flushed a little when he noticed the benches, the strategically placed handles in it, wondering exactly what Armie got up to in it, and wow, okay, he also didn’t realize his reaction time would be that fast, and he shifted a little, hoping Armie wouldn’t notice.

But Armie had dropped his hand, was going through the linen closet, and reappeared with a washcloth and towel, offering both to Timmy. “You should probably clean up,” he said, voice gentle still, firm under it. “I can get you some pants to wear, and I can wash what you’ve got on now.” Timmy felt himself blush, the heat spreading through his whole body, and he looked down at his feet, squirming a little out of embarrassment. Armie was in front of him in a moment, cupping his face and drawing it up to him, hands gentle. “Hey, no, baby, look at me. That’s not a bad thing. I _asked_ you to do that, for me, and you _did_ , you did, and it was…..fucking incredible, okay? I’m not upset. You did just what I asked you to. I just want you to be comfortable for the rest of the evening.”

Timmy nodded, leaning into the touch and closing his eyes, lifting his hands to wrap around Armie’s wrists, still floating somewhere, closer to the surface, but still not really wanting to speak, or make sudden movements. It was soft, safe, comforting with Armie’s hands on him, his voice a low, soothing rumble in the background, thunder in the rainstorm of Timmy’s mind, and he sighed a little, turning his head to kiss the inside of one of Armie’s wrists, and he felt Armie’s fingers squeeze his jaw slightly. 

“Do you…..” Armie paused, and Timmy opened his eyes, breath catching when he saw that Armie’s were that deep ocean again, storms over calm seas, the look he was beginning to attribute with _himself_ , when he did something Armie found particularly arousing, or when Armie was even just _thinking_ of him in that way, and he licked his lips, waiting for Armie to finish, smiling a little when he saw Armie’s eyes flick down to watch the movement of his tongue. “Do you want to do it yourself?”

Timmy frowned at that, trying to make sense of what Armie was asking him, and then he remembered--right. The washcloth, the towel, the mess that was becoming more and more noticeable the more his erection became interested in the proceedings, pushing against the sticky, cooling mess in his pants, and he blushed, biting the corner of his mouth, thinking while Armie just watched him patiently. They hadn’t _discussed_ this, and his head was still slightly foggy, slightly sugar-spun, soft and airy and light and trusting Armie, always trusting Armie but even more so in these moments, these moments of the rush of being taken care of, being handled like he was precious, being told what to do, feelings he never realized he’d have much less _want_ to have before Armie had entered his life, and after a moment he shook his head, shy, curls falling over his eyes. He heard the sharp inhale of Armie’s breath, felt his fingers tighten on his jaw and tipped his head back, exhaling on more of a gasp than anything, mouth falling open, knowing what he looked like, limp and leaning into him, vulnerable and open and ready to take whatever Armie was going to give him.

Armie reached around the back of his neck, squeezing gently and making Timmy shiver. “That’s my good boy. Hold still for me, baby. What’re the words if you want me to stop?” He waited, patiently, hand still on the back of Timmy’s neck, as Timmy swallowed, taking a moment to form the words.

“Yellow to slow down,” he said finally, leaning back into the touch. “Red to stop.” Armie squeezed his neck again.

“Good boy. Can you stay still for me, baby?” Timmy nodded, and dropped his hands to his sides, blinking at Armie as he stepped forwards, running his hands soothingly down Timmy’s arms, briefly squeezing his fingers before moving his hands to Timmy’s belt, keeping his eyes on Timmy at all times, watching for any sign of distress or discomfort, but Timmy stayed still, like a good boy, exhaling shakily as Armie undid his belt slowly, sliding it out of the loops one by one, and once he was holding the belt loosely in one hand, Timmy shivered, the sight of that making him even harder, and that…..that wasn’t something he’d considered he’d be into, but the sight of Armie, relaxed, holding the belt, just turned him on _more_. Armie caught the breath, saw Timmy focus on the belt, and a truly devious smile crossed his features.

“Really?” he asked, drawing out the word, and Timmy shivered. “We’ll explore that, then,” he said, setting the belt down behind him and reaching for the buttons on Timmy’s jeans, rubbing his fingers in soothing circles over Timmy’s hip bones when he began trembling, the pressure of skin on skin sending sparks shooting through his skin, leaning in and pressing kisses under Timmy’s jaw, shushing him softly. “I’ve got you, baby, it’s okay. I can stop if you want, at any time.” Timmy shook his head almost frantically, and reached out for Armie before he remembered he was supposed to be staying still, and he froze, eyes wide when Armie lifted his head and raised one eyebrow. “I thought you were going to stay still for me,” he said, and Timmy flushed, rolling his lips between his teeth and curling his toes against the floor, wanting to squirm because he hadn’t _listened_ but not wanting to move _more_ because that would be bad, too. 

Before he could figure out if he was supposed to answer or not, though, Armie reached around him with his free hand, landing one hard smack against his ass and Timmy hissed, shuddering and clenching his fists so he didn’t move, didn’t press his hips forwards into Armie’s, felt his cock throb inside his pants and whimpered a little, mouth falling open when Armie kissed him again, sliding their tongues together and gripping the back of his neck, biting hard on his lower lip before pulling back, leaving Timmy flushed and panting, struggling to keep his eyes open, warm all over and through and through, and he purred a little when Armie scratched the nape of his neck. “Stay still, baby,” he said, and Timmy almost nodded before catching himself.

“I will,” he said, words hoarse and rushing out of him, “I can be good.” Armie smiled, leaning in to kiss him once more before stepping back, the only point of contact his hands on Timmy’s hips.

“I know you can. You’re my good boy, aren’t you?” Timmy whined at the loss of closeness, but he licked over his lower lip, remembered not to nod, to answer direct questions.

“Yes, sir.”

Armie grinned at him, brushing his knuckles over Timmy’s stomach before undoing the button on his jeans slowly, carefully not touching his erection, now straining against the fabric, noticeable through the briefs and denim, and Timmy bit the inside of his cheek to help keep himself grounded, keep himself from swaying into the touch as Armie slowly drew his pants down his legs, Timmy trembling the entire time, lifting his feet when Armie prompted him to, steadied by a warm hand on the back of his calf each time, the touch making him whimper and close his eyes, the sudden revelation that he was half-dressed and Armie was still clothed hitting him, and he blushed, hot all over at how much that thought turned him on, surprised by how much he _wanted_ it, Armie in one of his suits, Timmy naked and draped over his lap, and it took him a moment to realize Armie had been talking to him, had said his name twice, and he blinked, Armie coming back into sharp relief. “You still with me, baby?”

Timmy smiled, slow, a little dreamy, humming in the back of his throat. “Yes, sir.”

Armie hooked his fingers in the waistband of Timmy’s briefs and he felt his cock jump, watched as another spot of wet bloomed where precome was forming, joining the mess he’d already made of himself, too gone to be worried about it, worry about what Armie would think about it. “What’s your color?” he asked, eyes intent on Timmy’s.

“Green,” he sighed out, swaying a little into Armie’s touch when he pulled on the waistband of Timmy’s briefs, breath catching in his throat. He’d never done this, never even had another person _see_ him naked, and he felt his heart stutter at the thought, but not out of anxiety, out of excitement, and Armie touched his jaw briefly before pulling down his briefs, freeing Timmy’s cock and making him shiver in the cool air, mouth slack as Armie discarded his briefs and then stood back, just drinking him in, and Timmy felt himself getting antsy, wanting to move, wanting Armie to _touch_ him, wanting something, knew he must look some sort of way, hair mussed from being played with, shirt hanging just barely over his hips, cock jutting out from the mess on his stomach, lips reddened from kisses, the beard burn he could feel against his neck standing out against the pale skin. 

His breathing quickened the longer Armie stood there, those deep-storm eyes taking him in, and just when he opened his mouth to speak, Armie stepped forwards, trailing gentle fingers up Timmy’s bare thigh, and he keened, head falling back. “You’re fucking beautiful,” Armie said, voice quiet, reverent almost, and Timmy shivered, cock jumping, so close to Armie’s hand, and Armie was standing near enough that he could feel the warmth radiating from him and he wanted, he just wanted _so badly_ but Armie said not to move and he needed to be good and he took deep breaths, trembling under Armie’s fingers, hands clenched into fists at his side, as Armie absently traced patterns on his bare thigh, trails of goosebumps rising in their wake as though his skin was trying to memorize the pattern for later, something to carry home with him, almost as good as having the real thing.

“Are you sure you want me to do this?” Armie asked again, moving his hand up to rest on Timmy’s hip, fingers pushing just up under the edge of his shirt, and Timmy felt himself pouting, felt his breathing quicken, anxious suddenly under the softness of subspace, eyes closing and mouth twisting and trying not to _move_ and his fingernails digging into his palms and harsh little gasps escaping him instead of breaths because what if _Armie_ didn’t want to do this, what if he was just doing it because Timmy asked him to, if he didn’t want to go this far or do any of this and he dimly heard himself _saying_ the words but he couldn’t stop and it took Armie’s fingers digging into the bracelet on his wrist to snap him out of it, suck in a startled breath as he felt his bones twist into his tendons, the leather digging into his skin, and he blinked, surprised to realize he’d been crying. “Timothee,” Armie said, and the urgency in his voice alerted Timmy, dimly, that he must have said it a couple of times. “Baby. I _want_ to do this. I promise you, if I ever don’t want to do something, I’ll safeword or tell you, but I need you to calm down, okay, and take some deep breaths.” 

Timmy frowned, struggling to calm his breathing and relax, but he couldn’t do it, couldn’t figure out how to calm down, how to get there, his head a soft, muddled mess of thoughts and anxiety and he just kept gasping out wet, strangled half-sobs before Armie shifted, drawing him in, one hand squeezing the back of his neck, the other resting on the small of his back, and Timmy reacted on instinct, arms wrapping around Armie’s waist, face pressed into his neck, hardly noticing the slight chafe of the fabric of Armie’s pants against his bare legs, the press of his hips against Timmy’s lower half, and Armie rubbed his back, shushing him softly, and took one of Timmy’s hands from around his waist and pressed it against his own chest, Timmy’s fingers curling into the fabric. “Just focus on me breathing, baby,” Armie said, fingers still gripping his wrist, and Timmy nodded, feeling the rise and fall of Armie’s chest beneath his fingers and struggling to match his breath to it, short, gasping inhales becoming longer, smoothing out, breathing in sync after a few long moments, and he felt the sharp edges of panic fade, shame creeping in, and he clung to Armie tighter, hating himself for taking what had been a _good moment_ and turning it into a mess, and Armie rocked him a little in place before leaning back, watching him carefully.

“You with me?” he asked, stroking the back of Timmy’s neck, and Timmy nodded, swallowing hard. “Good. We need to get you cleaned up, and then we need to get you some water, alright? You…..it seemed like you were almost about to drop, and I want to make sure you’re safe.” Timmy flushed, ashamed, and buried his face in Armie’s neck again, Armie’s hand moving up to tangle in his hair. “I’m not mad, sweetheart, I promise. This is a lot, and it’s new, and it’s my fault, if anything, because we didn’t really talk about this, and we keep jumping into things, and I want to, believe me, but we really need to slow down.” Timmy sniffled, rubbing his cheek against the fabric of Armie’s shirt, thinking for a moment before nodding, and Armie rewarded him with a small squeeze to the back of his neck. “Good. Can you stand up alone?”

Timmy shifted, pushing off Armie’s chest and swaying slightly but managing to stand up, ridiculously pleased with himself, and Armie touched his jaw lightly. “That’s good, baby, just stay there for me,” and moved to get the washcloth and wet it down, moving back to Timmy and wiping it over him almost perfunctorily, Timmy shivering a little when it brushed over his cock, but otherwise staying still, no longer as focused on the eroticism of the situation, trying to keep his breathing even, centered, because Armie had asked him to. He watched Armie rinse the cloth and drape it over the edge of the tub, and when Armie took his hand and gently led him into the bedroom, he followed, feet a little clumsy, almost tripping over himself once. Armie steadied him and then kissed him once, briefly, grounding Timmy slightly and he sighed, lifting his arms when Armie tugged at the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his chest, hair falling in his eyes once it was off and shivering in the cool air of the room, feeling his skin prickle with goosebumps again. 

Armie moved into the closet and Timmy stayed still, curling and uncurling his toes in the plush carpeting. It was nice, soothing, keeping him company while he waited, while he tried to ignore the ache of his cock and the fact that he was naked and Armie was clothed and when Armie came back out, he reached for him without realizing it, making Armie smile and bend to kiss him again, pressing a kiss behind his ear. He was holding pajamas, Timmy realized, and he lifted his arms again, let Armie tug the shirt over his head, lifted his feet for pants to be slid up his legs, too long and draping over his feet on the carpet, but he felt warm. Safe. Protected.

Armie held up a bottle of water to Timmy’s mouth, and he tipped it gently until Timmy took a few swallows, the water sliding down his throat, and he closed his eyes and hummed at the sensation, at how it soothed the last of the tears away. Armie took his hand again, and waited until Timmy opened his eyes before leading him to the bed, hand steady on his wrist over the bracelet, grounding him, and he climbed onto the bed when Armie nudged him towards it, burrowing into the blankets and humming when a blanket was draped over him, tucked gently up around his chin, and he felt tired, loose, his limbs stone now that he was laying down, but Armie moved away from the bed and Timmy heard himself make the tiniest noise, protesting, panicky, and he started to sit up but Armie just rubbed one hand over his shoulder, soothing.

“I’m just going to change pants,” he said, bending to kiss Timmy’s temple. “I promise I’m coming back.” Timmy squinted at him suspiciously, fingers still curled where he’d caught the hem of Armie’s shirt, and Armie laughed, tugging his hair lightly. “Sarcastic even you’re in subspace, huh?” he teased, and Timmy felt himself warm all over, wiggling under the blanket and dropping his hand, fighting to keep his eyes open as he watched Armie move to the closet.

By the time he felt Armie slide into the bed next to him, one arm draping over his waist, he was already slipping into sleep.


	9. My Youth Is Yours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (The fines he’d earned for mouthing off to cops, participating in protests, and his blatant sarcasm all proved that, but he was also so fragile under it all, falling into subspace in the blink of an eye, trembling with anxiety after being threatened by the men outside Armie’s building, a contradiction in strength and vulnerability, and Armie loved it, wanted to take Timmy apart, figure out how he ticked, put him back together and shower him with the praise it would take for that sarcasm to stick around, keep him safe from anything that might scare him.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WE HAVE REACHED THE END OF THIS PART there are still like so many parts to come okay so please don't think this is IN ANY WAY FINISHED this owns my soul now.
> 
> also this chapter is for nel whom i love very much HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY BB <3333

_Armie_

Timmy was a solid weight beneath his arm, his head shifting in sleep to rest on Armie’s shoulder, and he stayed still, chest rising and falling in time with Timmy’s breaths, watching his features soften in sleep, smiling a little as Timmy curled closer to him, one hand twisted in the fabric of his shirt, and he rubbed his knuckles gently, absently, down the notches of Timmy’s spine. He was still reacting faster than Armie had anticipated, and he was annoyed with himself for forgetting that, for treating this like Timmy was any other sub, used to having a dom, used to having someone tell them what to do, and he had to stop doing that. Because Timmy, in more ways than one, was like no other sub Armie had ever encountered (well, he thought, he was similar to Viktor in some ways, but he really didn’t want to think of his brother in the moments after seeing Timmy naked for the first time, so he pushed that out of his head).

He was open and trusting and vulnerable in a way many of his subs weren’t--to an extent, yes, they were trusting, they were vulnerable with him, trusted him to take care of them, but they were also experienced, knew mostly what to expect from him and what he expected from them. Timmy had none of that, completely guileless, huge doe eyes watching Armie with an adoration and trust he wasn’t sure he’d earned but would do everything he could _to_ earn. Timmy made him feel more in control of himself (again, he thought, in some ways, because he’d clearly lost a little control earlier, but Timmy had been so _gone_ , so open to him, and he’d just wanted to see what would happen), made him feel like he needed to be better than he somehow was already, had to watch out for him, make sure he was kept safe, taken care of. There was a protectiveness with Timmy there hadn’t been with any of his other subs, a deep-down in the gut sense that he _had_ to take care of him, even though he knew Timmy was capable of taking care of himself most of the time.

(The fines he’d earned for mouthing off to cops, participating in protests, and his blatant sarcasm all proved that, but he was also so fragile under it all, falling into subspace in the blink of an eye, trembling with anxiety after being threatened by the men outside Armie’s building, a contradiction in strength and vulnerability, and Armie loved it, wanted to take Timmy apart, figure out how he ticked, put him back together and shower him with the praise it would take for that sarcasm to stick around, keep him safe from anything that might scare him.)

When he felt Timmy shift, he turned, looking down at him as Timmy’s eyes fluttered open, affection welling in his chest, and he brushed his lips over Timmy’s temple, hand stilling on his lower back, holding him close. “Hey there,” he murmured, soft sounds just in case Timmy was still in the dredges of subspace, and he felt his smile bloom when Timmy peered up at him, those eyes showing confusion, delight, affection one right after the other, face tipping up so his lips brushed gently over Armie’s, remembering that he could kiss Armie whenever he wanted to, and Armie hummed a little, shifted to kiss him again when Timmy pulled back, enjoying the clutch of Timmy’s fingers in his shirt, the effort to pull him closer.

But he’d said they needed to be good, and he was the one who had to enforce that, so he pulled back, ran his fingers up and down Timmy’s spine again, studying him. Eyes clear, which was good, cheeks a little flushed from the closeness, and he could feel Timmy getting hard against his leg, something he resolutely ignored for the moment, as he ignored his own hardening cock in his sweatpants. “How’re you feeling, baby?”

Timmy considered for a moment, nose scrunching up while he thought and making Armie smile, lean in to brush their noses together, Timmy’s soft sigh warm against his mouth. “M’good,” Timmy breathed out, leaning in and nuzzling Armie’s neck. “I feel better.”

“Good. I hoped the sleep would help.” He hesitated only for a moment, hand continuing the smooth movement over his back, soothing and grounding him at the same time. “Do you feel up to talking?” Like Armie, Timmy hesitated only for a second before nodding, wiggling closer and moving his hand up to curl in the collar of Armie’s shirt, head resting on his shoulder more comfortably, and Armie chuckled. “Okay, you can stay there while we talk. I just need to apologize, sweetheart. I moved a little fast,” he explained when Timmy tipped his head up, frowning. “Not with the spanking, that was something we’d agreed on, but with what happened after. You’ve never done anything like this with anyone before, and I feel like I might have pushed a little too far while you were still in subspace, while you were adjusting to being there, and I asked you to make a few decisions I don’t think you should have had to make, but I wanted to be sure I wasn’t going to make you uncomfortable.” 

Timmy was still frowning at him, but then he nodded, looking down at his fingers against Armie’s shirt, tracing absent patterns on the fabric. “I understand what you’re saying--about asking if I wanted to do it or wanted you to do it, because you told me you’re going to ask about everything, make sure that it’s okay. Which I appreciate, a lot,” he said, voice soft, hoarse from sleep. “But I don’t think that’s what made me anxious or panicky at all, in my head….” he paused for a moment again, and Armie watched him figure out how to say what he’d been feeling during a time when he was mostly emotions, not concrete thoughts, trying to put into words the whirlwind of feelings subspace brought up. “You asked, again, I think, if I was sure I wanted you to do it, and I took that as you not wanting to anymore, as you….somehow backing away from all of this, somehow? It’s all jumbled up, and I don’t know if that makes sense, but that’s the closest explanation I can come up with.” He sounded apologetic, and Armie shifted to tip his face up, kiss him softly, once, lingering over it,

“It’s a perfectly good explanation,” he said, rubbing his thumb over Timmy’s cheekbone before resting his hand on the back of Timmy’s neck. “And I’m sorry that I may have phrased it in a way that made you anxious. I was only meaning to double check to make sure _you_ were sure, because that was farther than we discussed going, and also farther than you’ve ever gone with anyone, and I didn’t want to take advantage of that when you were in subspace, because I know subs aren’t always….” he started to say “capable” and then stopped, rethinking the wording, before continuing with “aware of what they’re doing or saying when they’re under. I just didn’t want to cross a line because you were so overwhelmed that you were unaware of what was happening.”

 

Timmy huffed, and Armie recognized it as the noise Timmy made when he thought Armie was being particularly dense or annoying, and it made him grin, feeling Timmy’s sharp fingers, those delicate, precious artist’s fingers, poke into his side. “I’m not completely unaware of _everything_ ,” he said. “Or at least, I haven’t been yet, I’m not saying it won’t happen, I guess. But I knew what I wanted, and what I wanted was what we were doing. And I didn’t mean to get anxious, I think it was partially that this is, like you said, new. Like, really fucking brand new for me. And so I think it was all just a lot, in the moment, and it felt a lot bigger than maybe it was?”

“No, baby, I think it was plenty big,” Armie said, running his finger down the bridge of Timmy’s nose and laughing when Timmy tried to bite his finger, and then realizing what he’d said when Timmy flushed, and he snorted, pressing his face in Timmy’s hair. “That was _not_ supposed to be a dick joke, you child,” he said, tickling his fingers into Timmy’s ribs in retaliation and delighting in the way Timmy yelped and squirmed before wrapping his arms around Timmy and rolling them so Timmy was on top of him, blinking down at him a little startled at the change in position, hands bracing him above Armie. “What I _meant_ was that it was a big moment. And also a little bit of a power play, with you unclothed and me clothed, and it was a lot. It’s okay that you got anxious, is what I’m getting at, here, and doing a terrible job of it, and why do you look nervous again?”

Timmy was chewing his lip, most of his weight braced on his arms, and he shrugged, rolling his eyes. “This just….you just put me in a position of power and, like, everything in me is kind of freaking out about you being under me, so, it’s….just taking some getting used to.” Armie reached up, brushing his fingers through Timmy’s hair, tugging lightly to watch his eyes close.

“I want you right there,” he said, voice stern, making sure Timmy knew it was _okay_ for them to be how they were. “This is where I put you, so this is where I want you. If I wanted you somewhere else, you’d be there.” He watched Timmy stay tense for another moment before relaxing, weight dropping on Armie and arms wrapping around his neck, his skinny frame pressed up against him, and Armie wrapped his arms around Timmy’s back, kissing his cheek. “Better?”

“Yes, thanks,” Timmy said, and it only came out half-sarcastic, so Armie pinched his hip gently, making Timmy yelp again and raise his head to glare at him, laughing when he saw Armie’s innocent expression. “Okay, so I see what you’re getting at, then. The….balance of us, it’s going to take some getting used to on my part, and you just want to make sure that you’re taking care of me without crossing any boundaries. That sound about right?” When Armie nodded, Timmy shifted again, bracing himself and brushing his fingers lightly over Armie’s mouth. “I know my safewords. I can remember those even in subspace. And I promised I’d use them if I ever felt you were crossing a line, which I haven’t felt yet.”

“Fair enough,” Armie nodded, kissing the tips of Timmy’s fingers, enjoying the way his eyes went soft at the gesture of affection, the open desire reflected in them. “But I’m still going to detail what I’m doing, still going to check in often, until we get a better feel of how the other works. That’s not up for negotiation.” Timmy nodded, leaning in to kiss him again, shifting to get a better angle and hissing when the movement dragged their cocks together, stilling above Armie. 

“Sorry,” he gasped out, burying his face in Armie’s neck, twitching slightly from the sensation. “I didn’t mean to. That was actually an accident, and I honestly do not want to ruin two pairs of pants in one night.”

Armie smiled smugly, running his hands down Timmy’s spine and over his ass, resting them there lightly and hearing Timmy whimper. “That _would_ be a shame,” he agreed, and Timmy bit the juncture of his neck and shoulder, making _him_ exclaim this time, and then laugh, rolling them so Timmy was under him and he could press kisses to his neck, his shoulders, the slope of his nose, his cheeks. “You’re such a fucking brat,” he said, delighting in him, in Timmy being here with him, clinging to his shoulders and laughing under him, humming a little when Armie finally stilled, peering out the window at the snowflakes falling onto the city.

They lay in silence for a few moments, Timmy tapping out an absent rhythm on Armie’s back and Armie just holding him, before Timmy finally spoke. “I really hope you have food here, because if you were planning on getting delivery, we might be sort of screwed,” he said, and Armie pulled back, kissing him again before shifting to get out of the bed, snorting at the noise of protest Timmy made, his hands grabbing at the blankets to keep them over him.

“I do have food, but if you want to eat, you have to get out of bed,” he said helpfully, and Timmy just pouted, tucking the blankets back under his chin, making Armie roll his eyes and stride to the closet, grabbing a robe and re-emerging a moment later, holding it out for Timmy, who beamed at him and took it, sliding out of the bed and into the robe, belting it around his waist and bouncing a little on his feet, fluttering his eyelashes at Armie.

“My hero,” he cooed, and Armie flicked him with the belt of the bathrobe.

“See if I feed you now.”

**Author's Note:**

> As always, come join me on [tumblr](https://sweetteatimmychalamet.tumblr.com) where I am basically just a mess tbh.


End file.
